


I Hope the Worst Isn't Over

by regardingseas



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, As In They Don't Leave Others For Dead, Autistic Logic | Logan Sanders, Brain Damage, Gen, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'd Mention Anxiety Too But That's Obvious, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mental Health Issues, Neurodiversity, Pathological Liar Deceit, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, References to Depression, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, They're All Generally Sympathetic To Some Degree, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardingseas/pseuds/regardingseas
Summary: It's been nine months, three weeks, and five days, since everyone's habitual lives came to a screeching halt. But hey... who's counting, anyway?All of the sides are involved in this story! Read tags for more. (Zombie AU)
Relationships: Up to you - Relationship, but they can be seen as platonic or romantic, none directly stated
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, blood, mental illnesses, physicals illnesses (more than the zombies), brain damage, implied (past) abuse and/or neglect (it's vague), bullying (past), panic attacks, s*icidal ideation is mentioned a couple times, but nothing actually comes of it unless you count impulsivity. Let me know if you find anything else!
> 
> Sorry if they ever seem OOC, things get more complicated when they're all humans with real life backstories and more complex emotions. It's also my first Sanders Sides fic, so please go easy?

Patton hummed as he stirred the pot of soup on the burner, stood over a little gas stove with one slot that somehow still ran on its old batteries and salvaged butane canisters. The blond haired man was situated on the group's back porch, adding whatever he could to make their food last longer, while also accounting for the taste to hopefully remain palatable. The extra water used to stretch out their meals made them even more bland than they would be originally, which was really saying something when it came to expired, pre-canned soup. Thus, Patton always used fresh ingredients from the garden to his advantage-- crushing cloves of garlic and simmering vegetables before adding them to the pot. Onions, carrots, whatever would add to the flavour instead of making it worse.

The sky above him was clear, sun beating down as a cool breeze rolled over the converted lot. The day was calm and peaceful, as if the world around them didn't happen to be falling apart. But their home had been adapted for long-term survival, and days spent within its expanses created a wonderful illusion of normality.

"Patton?" Logan's voice sounded as he stepped onto the porch, pulling Patton from his trance.

"Hey, Lo. What's up?" he asked, turning to face the other man.

"Virgil and I have checked all the traps, and Roman finished tending the garden for the day. They've asked me to inform you," he said, adjusting the dark blue scarf resting around his neck.

Patton nodded with a smile, "That's great. Did you two find anything?"

"Unfortunately, nothing edible. The trapping pit on the far left of the house caught one of the Infected, however, and we handled it accordingly."

"It wasn't too much trouble, was it?"

"Of course not," Logan waved his hand as if to brush off the thought, "it went fine."

"Oh good! The food's almost ready, so why don't you stay on this trend of being the messenger and let the others know?"

"I can do that, but there's something else I wish to speak with you about as well."

"Hm? And what's that?"

"We're running rather low on supplies again. Though it's apparent you're already aware of this," he noted, gesturing towards the pot of watery soup, "But therefore, we believe it would be best to go out scavenging, sooner rather than later. The cans you used are some of the last, as I'm sure you were also aware. Virgil is also nearly out of his medication, and though it's unlikely we'll find his exact perception, an alternative could at least provide similar benefits."

Patton nodded, stopping the frown that wanted to find its way onto his face, "When do you think would be the best time to go?"

Logan was well aware they needed to leave as soon as possible, but he still didn't enjoy sudden ventures out, as it didn't give them nearly enough time to plan in his opinion. Realistically though, he knew there was no way to plan for such a chaotic world. They had emergency measures set aside for all types of situations, but that was all they could do. They always had to discuss where they were going right before they did it, and this time, over lunch seemed to be the best option. After all, it wouldn't make sense for Logan to disagree now, considering he was the one to bring it up to begin with.

"The others wish to go after lunch, I find the proposal bearable."

"Bearable?" Patton asked, "It doesn't seem like you like the idea very much."

Logan shrugged, "It isn't as if any time would be particularly enjoyable."

"I guess not," he said, looking towards the side of the deck as he heard the others approaching. The two remaining boys were making their way over, with Roman bragging about his so-called natural gift in gardening, and Virgil rolling his eyes and limping along on his damaged ankle.

"The idea of a 'green thumb' is such bull. There's literally no such thing," Virgil said, looking at Logan as they climbed the stairs, "Hey! Tell Roman that I'm right."

Roman shook his head, "No, tell  _ this _ ignorant man that he's in the wrong. There's definitely some totally scientific explanation for having a green thumb. Right, Logan?"

He raised an eyebrow, unsure of how the two even ended up arguing over something so inconsequential. "Well, no. Scientifically speaking, there is no proof of someone being naturally gifted in caring for plants, though I don't see what that has to do with the colour of one's digits."

Roman groaned, "That's so lame. And it's an expression, anyway. It doesn't actually mean your thumb turns leprechaun green when you're skilled. It alludes to a gardener having their fingers stained from working with plants so much."

"I see…" Logan shrugged, "In that case, although there's still no proof of anyone inherently possessing advanced gardening abilities, if your tendings  _ do _ happen to be sprouting faster than Virgil's, it's simply due to the extra steps you take. For instance, everyone knows plants need sunlight and water in order to photosynthesize, but they also grow better when spoken, or even sung to."

"See! I told you my gardening tunes weren't in vain! Even the plants appreciate it," said Roman, placing a hand over his heart.

Virgil shook his head adamantly, "Well I sure don't, and I am  _ not _ going to start singing to them either," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender and abandoning the conversation in favour of assisting Patton.

Roman chuckled and rested his hands on his hips, "I'll take what I can get."

"That may be wise," Logan agreed.

Patton looked to Virgil with a smile, "Would you mind serving everyone up a bowl while I get some water from the filtration system?"

"Sure, dude."

The blond nodded and headed off, and Virgil ushered the others to the wooden picnic table installed on the side of the deck. He poured the soup into the four bowls Patton had prepared, and placed each one onto the table in front of their may-as-well-be assigned seats. Patton returned soon after, handing out cups of purified drinking water to everyone, as well as placing a bowl on the ground for his dog that was now following close behind and wagging its tail excitedly. His name was Dug, a big sweetie of a golden retriever named after the movie  _ Up _ that Patton had owned since before the world fell apart.

"There, everyone all set?" Patton asked, only taking a seat once the others assured him they were alright and not in need of anything else. Everyone began digging into their meals, and they ate in a mildly tense silence before Logan finally broke it by speaking up.

"So..." he began, "we spoke of partaking in a scavenging mission after dining, has anyone's opinion on that matter changed?"

"Mine hasn't," said Roman after taking a swig of his water. "We need to go, we're running dangerously low on supplies. I hate to bring it up, but I thought we agreed to never get to this point again if we could help it. Winter will be here soon, and then we won't even have most of our crops."

Virgil nodded, "And I hate to agree, but Roman's right."

"Well," Patton took a deep breath, "I guess it's decided then, we'll go after lunch. But we'll probably have to find a new shop, we've cleared out anything useful from all of the ones nearby."

"All of those within a 5 mile radius, yes…" said Logan, "meaning it will be an approximate 4 hour round-trip to this new location and back. That is, taking into account any stops, detours, and the time needed to actually search the store we select. Though that estimate is only applicable if all goes as planned."

Patton gave a smile, "Some estimate is better than none, it's okay. And I'm sure that everything will go great. Maybe we'll even find a new radio! With ours having been broken for so long, it would be great to have a working one again. Imagine the great things we could have missed! Broadcasts from other survivors? We could really find some great things at a new store."

Virgil tapped his knuckles on the table, "Knock on wood, don't jinx us."

Patton chuckled and knocked on the bench beside him. "Right. Of course, kiddo."

"Does partaking in such superstitions really provide a sense of comfort?" Logan asked, prodding at his soup pointedly with his spoon.

"I don't know, but it's harmless fun."

"Harmless unit it becomes a necessity and leads to possible ruminations of-"

Roman cut Logan off, "Okay, okay. We get it, Specs. But like, why do you always do that?"

Logan raised a brow, "First of all, rude. Second, what are you talking about?"

Roman pointed at Logan's bowl, where he'd eaten around all of the onions and left them to sit at the bottom. "Do you really hate the taste of onions enough to waste them right now?"

"I'll have you know that I rather enjoy the taste of onions, Roman."

"Uh-huh… See, that doesn't make any sense."

Logan sighed, "The  _ taste _ is fine, especially considering the limited materials Patton has available to cook them. I'm simply put off by their texture."

"Oh, that's right! I'm sorry, Logan, I always forget," Patton apologized.

"Nonsense, it isn't much trouble to avoid them. The others enjoy it and it provides more sustenance, there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, I experience hyper-sensitivity to many stimuli. It is the same reason I have an aversion to touch and clamor, so really, it's unavoidable in the long run."

"I guess so," sighed Patton, still feeling a bit guilty for the trouble.

Logan simply nodded and finished off his drink, truly not seeing the reasoning behind  _ others _ getting worked up over his feelings. Why would his neurodiversity cause them to feel guilty? Did they feel  _ bad  _ for him? He certainly hoped not, though he did wonder sometimes. Logan didn't wish for pity, and he didn't need sympathy for existing-- that would be ridiculous, after all. He was more than capable of survival, proven by the fact he's made it so far in this apocalyptic hellscape. And it isn't as if he were set back developmentally, either. In fact, he was very intelligent. Some would even call him a genius, and he sincerely prided himself on that fact. His father always said his wit was only due to his co-occurring Savant syndrome, but his mother had been very adamant that he paved his own way to brilliance. Logan preferred to believe the latter, and did not appreciate the implications of the prior statement at all.

"Logan?" Virgil asked, snapping the man out of his daze.

He blinked quickly as he returned to the present, "Yes, Virgil?"

"Are you like… good? We were talking about plans again, and we need your input."

"Ah, yes. I'm alright," Logan said with a small smirk, "So, where were we?"

* * *

The group eventually decided on a plan, though it took a little longer than hoped for everyone to come to an agreement. Even so, there was more than enough time left in the day to make their journey to a shop, so the four men suited up and prepared for a long, dangerous walk. 

They all slipped on pairs of boots, lacing them up tight to avoid the hazard of any ankle biters crawling around. Jeans were also a necessity; thick denim made it hard for teeth or nails to break through the skin, and that tended to be priority number one. 

Roman always donned a white leather jacket whenever they left, and though it was tacky as all get-out, he loved it and it kept him safe, so none of the other boys berated him about it too often. Virgil would opt for something simpler; just classic black leather over his usual handmade hoodie. He was often hot with all the layers he insisted on wearing out, but still couldn't bear to leave his comfort object behind, especially if anything were to happen. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd do if he left it behind, then never saw it again. 

Patton set aside the cardigan that would usually rest around his shoulders. Its cozy presence felt like a constant hug, but it became a danger when outside the confines of their home, as it apparently made for an easy handhold to grab onto and pull him down with. Logan had a similar issue when it came to his scarf, which was already a replacement for the tie he used to wear-- as he felt incomplete without a presence around his neck. It was needless to say that professional attire had been his preference in the past. People were more likely to take him seriously that way, after all, and it made him feel heard. But there was no time to tend to fancy clothes anymore, nor was there time to find new ties. So a random scarf it was, and a random scarf he'd occasionally have to leave behind.

"Is everyone ready?" Patton asked, grabbing their stash of empty bags and handing them out. Roman was the only one to carry a full pack everywhere, a bag of just-in-case supplies that he insisted on lugging around since he was the strongest.

"I am," said Roman, slipping said bag over his shoulders with a satisfied grin.

"As am I."

"Me too."

"Great," breathed Patton, readying himself for the outside. "Let's go then."

He reached for the door and let them all outside, bidding Dug  _ adieu _ with a promise to return soon before sealing the many locks tightly. They all made their way down the rocky path and through their tall fences, watching close as they exited the wooded area concealing their home. It always felt strange to leave and enter the world again, the poor conditions having a bad habit of catching them off guard. It was easy to forget how bad things were outside of their private little sanctuary, but passing by a heap of human remains was sure to snap anyone out of their delusions of safety. Even if the secluded nature of the area meant less Infected, they could never be too careful.

There was a thick silence between the four as they walked, trudging through the grass until it gave way to a street. The first few minutes out were always the hardest, as it threw them back to the beginning all over again, and they always needed time to pull themselves together. But it would get easier, it always did. This notion proved to be true, as by the time they reached the first stretch of long-since-looted buildings, the tension no longer felt quite so suffocating. It was no picnic, but they could breathe just a little easier, and keeping their masks on wasn't as miserable. When given the chance, they ventured away from any main roads in favour of the much emptier back allies, stealthily threading through the buildings to avoid any of the undead who may still be lurking.

The worst of the tension had diminished almost entirely after a few hours, replaced with achy muscles and the strange hypervigilance they'd adapted in order to survive. Somehow they'd gotten lucky, and were able to sneak by most of the Infected without engaging-- only having had to take down a few along the way. They forced themselves forward despite their discomfort, and even Virgil limped along as he always did. The old injury never seemed to slow him down much, and when worst came to worst, he was always able to keep up with the others when running. He'd sprint right alongside them, even if in the days after, he'd be hurting more than usual. Virgil never let himself complain about the pain, however, believing that since it happened so long ago, he had no right to dwell. Apparently he'd broken it before finding their group, and it never healed correctly, but he didn't speak of that much, either. He didn't seem to be struggling any more than usual, but Patton couldn't help but worry his friend was suffering anyway.

"Hey, Virgil?" he asked, finally speaking and fixing the empty backpack over his shoulders.

The black haired boy turned to face him, tilting his head slightly as they walked. "Hm? What's up, dude?"

"Are you sure you're doing okay on that ankle of yours?"

Virgil rolled his eyes, "You literally ask me that  _ every time _ we go out, Pat. I'm pretty sure it's okay by now."

"I know, I know, but I just get concerned. It always looks like you're in pain, and I hate seeing any of you guys like that!" Patton made sure not to raise his voice, even as his tone went up, "You never even bring it up, but it has to bug you if you're limping all the time."

He shook his head, waving it off, "I hardly notice it normally, so I really see no need to mention it. What good would it do?"

"Not too much, I guess..?"

Virgil gave a small smirk, "I think you might worry too much, and that's coming from me."

Patton cracked a smile, "Maybe you're right. You say you're okay, I should try and have faith in that."

"Now you're getting it," he said.

"I am,  _ but _ you still never really talk about what  _ happened _ . You tell us you broke it, and we know that, but why do you never talk about what it was like before you found us?"

"Because, it isn't important."

"Of course it's important! It's your  _ life _ , and I wish you'd trust us with your stories about it."

Virgil sighed, and Logan turned to face them, "I must admit, I've found myself curious as well. We've never been able to attain any real explanation from you, it's rather troubling."

"Why is it troubling?" he asked, "What? Do you think I'm secretly a murderer or something?"

"No, I can confidently say I've never drawn that conclusion. But as Patton expressed, we have simply been… concerned, for your well-being. You do not make the situation seem particularly pleasant."

"I don't think anyone could describe the end of the world as  _ pleasant _ ," Virgil noted, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Probably not," added Roman, unable to stop himself from jumping in on conversation, "but you're this edgy book of secrets, and we all want you to open up. Like, come on, what's there to lose?"

"You guys are never gonna let this go, are you?"

"Well, we don't want to make you uncom-" Patton began, but Roman cut him off.

"Nope, we won't."

Virgil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Whatever, sir-sing-a-lot. I don't know why you care so much, at least the others have genuine motives behind their wondering."

"I have genuine motives."

"Uh-huh, sure you do." Virgil shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to simultaneously think of what to say first and prepare himself to disclose the past. To his surprise, everyone waited patiently. 

"Okay, let's see…" he mumbled, snapping his fingers as he thought of where to begin, "My ankle. Patton's always curious about that one… Well, I broke it trying to escape a hoard. I had to leave my old group behind so they could get away safely, I would've just slowed them down in the state I was in. I ended up hiding to wait it out, for three days or so, till the zombies got bored of me and gave up or whatever. It was maybe four months into the third wave."

There was a strange silence between the team for a moment, each of them staring at the clearly anxious man finally telling his story. They supposed they shouldn't be surprised to hear something grim, but some things just never lost their shock factor.

"I'm sorry, bud…" Patton was the one to break the silence, placing a hand on Virgil's shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, it is what it is."

"I suppose…" he nodded, "But you and your group? Did you guys get along okay?" Patton was trying to make light of the dim past, and Virgil could appreciate that to some degree. 

"We were… an interesting bunch," Virgil chuckled softly, fixing his bag so it didn't fall from his shoulders.

"Is that so?" asked Logan.

He nodded slowly, "In my opinion, yeah. There were three of us… a trio of fuckin' weirdos, really. We didn't have a leader, but Dee usually liked to act like he was in charge. Well, his real name's Janus, but he always went by Dee. The dude's a pathological liar, for context, and used to be bullied a lot when he was younger, to the point some people straight up started calling him Deceit. He, of course, took the name and made it his own-- started going by Dee to prove they couldn't get to him. It stuck, and years later it's what all his friends still call him."

"I can appreciate that psychology, taking another's slander and integrating it into something pleasant…" Logan said, seeming to trail off absentmindedly.

"I figured you would," agreed Virgil, "He did that kinda thing a lot. From what I heard, he had a rough childhood in pretty much every sense of the word, so I guess he took to deflecting as a way to cope." He glanced around as he spoke, feeling the need to ensure that none of the undead had been attracted to their speech. They never tended to talk so much on outings, usually opting to remain quiet and listen. However, he saw nothing strange nearby, so the relief enabled him to continue.

"That's so sad…" said Patton, and Virgil couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"You said there were three of you, though," Roman noted, holding up a finger to represent each member. "What was the other fellow like?"

"Oh, right. He was… eccentric, I guess. He wasn't exactly right in the head, but once you got past his --frankly kind of disturbing-- antics, he wasn't a bad guy at heart. Dee knew him better than I did, though."

Roman nodded and chuckled slightly, "Ah, he sounds like my brother."

"You see," Vigil said abruptly and gestured towards the brunet, "you guys all get on me for being vague, but Roman does it too! We don't know anything about his brother besides the fact that they're twins and they didn't get along."

"How'd you gather that last part?" Roman asked, a look of mild wonder on his face.

"Common sense," he deadpanned.

"Well, since we're sharing… why don't you tell us about your brother, Ro?" Patton asked.

"I too, am curious," added Logan.

Roman sighed, "Very well… you see, Virgil and his strange psychic abilities-"

"-Common sense."

"-were correct. My brother and I never did get along very well. We fought like cats and dogs most of the time, which… in retrospect, I suppose I should have been the bigger person and chosen not to engage. He fell ill when we were young, and he never fully recovered. He acted rather strange, and always got everyone's attention. Which I now like to believe he needed, but as a child I felt as if he'd stolen my spotlight. Nothing I did felt remarkable enough anymore."

"I assume you've considered the fact that this is why portray yourself with such verve?" asked Logan.

Roman nodded, "My family certainly seems to think so. But I haven't so much as heard from my brother since I felt for college… and I can honestly say I've reached a point where I regret not reaching out when I could. Who knows how he could be doing now? Or if he's even made it this far…"

Patton reached out to pat his back, and Roman gave a small smile of gratitude in return.

"Huh…" Virgil mumbled in thought, looking up towards the dramatic man before him, "Hey, what's your brother's name anyway?"

"It's Remus. Why do you ask?"

Virgil stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with realization. If it were at all possible in reality, there would have been a light bulb that went off above his head. "Because we're talking about the same person."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, if anyone was wondering, the title is a line from "no children" by the mountain goats. I listened to it a lot while writing this, especially the parts involving our snake boy. For some reason I pictured it being fitting, where the meaning of all lines in the song are flipped, as if they were false. So, the meaning of "I hope the worst isn't over" became "I hope the worst is FINALLY over" in my head. I know that isn't the point of the song, but I couldn't help myself, and it's honestly pretty interesting to listen to with that mindset!
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated!!!


	2. Chapter 2

Roman shot around, pointing at Virgil with brows raised high. "You're serious? You better not be joking, that would be pretty skewed!"

"I'm not joking!" he said defensively, "His name was Remus, and we all knew each other for around a year before this all started."

"Okay… well, what did he look like?? So I know if it's really my brother!"

"Um… brown hair with white streaks, can't miss that. Green eyes, and a weird moustache?"

A smile crossed the man's face, "Holy shit, it was him! I can't believe it… I never thought I'd be so excited to hear about  _ Remus _ . How was he doing??"

Virgil shrugged and pressed his hands closer to himself from inside his pockets, visibly stressed by the influx of questions he was receiving. "I mean he was  _ fine _ , last I saw. He and Dee were still running, but I guess it looked like they got away?"

"I'm sure they did," assured Patton, "It sounds like you were a rough and tumble bunch, I doubt a handful of the Infected could stop them."

"Right," Virgil smirked slightly to mask his discomfort, "He's probably right. I have a feeling they'd be pretty pissed if I were to undermine their ability to survive."

Roman let out a small chuckle, "I can imagine that…"

"I hate to ruin the moment, but we've reached the new town," announced Logan, gesturing towards the sign ahead.

_ Welcome to South Wadnix,  _ it said, the green board half obscured by a strange symbol written in spray paint. It looked like some sort of boxy number eight in the middle of a circle, or maybe it was supposed to be an overlayed combination of letters instead. Either way, it was easy to see none of them recognized it.

Logan spoke again, "Now that we've arrived, we should be taking extra precautions. We're in unfamiliar territory, and therefore should focus all of our attention on surveillance. According to the map, there's a store a few blocks down, so let's save our conversing until we are safely inside."

Roman rolled his eyes but chose to digress nonetheless, and the group fell back into their silence as they crept forward. To their surprise, the new area had just as few of the Infected around, and they even managed to avoid any real confrontations.

"I'm sorry, I know we agreed no talking, but doesn't this feel too good to be true?" Virgil whispered as they walked, constantly scanning the streets for cues of anything being off. The spray painted symbols were all over the place, with each building being marked differently. Admittedly however, he didn't understand a single one.

"Hush, I'm sure there's good reason for it," Logan said, leading them forward until they reached the shop listed on the map.

Larger than expected, it was a tall standing CVS with boards where glass once was on the windows and doors. It appeared to have raided and abandoned long ago, but there was no way of knowing for sure without checking for themselves. There was a half destroyed, sad excuse for a fence on the sidelines, and the building itself donned one of the painted marks seen all over the town. This one, a crudely painted house, simple and mirroring the likeness of a childhood drawing. It consisted of a box with a trapezoid roof, a square little chimney, and only one door, of which was crossed out by a line, seemingly representing the doors being boarded the same way they were in reality. The house sat atop a larger rectangle, this shape much less detailed, with only a single dot in the center to portray its message.

"Does anyone know what these mean?" Patton asked, pointing towards the strange symbols in confusion.

Logan shook his head, "Unfortunately, I don't. But it doesn't seem to be of importance anymore."

"Okay but like… and hear me out here, what if it  _ is _ ?" Virgil noted, staring at the paint in distrust.

"What if it is?" Logan repeated as a hypothetical, "I see your point, but what does it change? We still have to go inside, so it's rather irrelevant what these hieroglyphs may represent. We'll simply have to be more attentive."

Virgil sighed, but couldn't find the words to argue. "Maybe you're right…"

Logan nodded, "Now let's head inside, shall we? Virgil, why don't you and Roman check behind the pharmaceutical counter in order to continue your conversation? Patton and I will search the storage in the back, then we'll finish with the rest of the store, as it's unlikely we'll find much of anything there. I'm fairly certain that people have already ransacked anything useful from the front."

"That works, I guess?" Virgil said with a defeated shrug.

"It sounds rather  _ grand _ to me," added Roman, giving a small smile. "Any differences aside, we have real matters to discuss. I promise I'll be a gentleman." 

Roman bowed slightly, Vigil rolling his eyes at the action but still unable to stop a smirk from surfacing, even with anxiety still fresh in his veins. "You better keep your word, princey."

"I cross my heart," he said, mincing the words as he spoke them.

After this, the group pushed through the door, looking around at the ravaged interior left behind from the beginning. It appeared to be empty, both in the sense of items, and of the Infected. Still, the team knew not to let their guard down yet, and they parted ways to begin their designated jobs.

Roman and Virgil made their way to the pharmaceutical section, finding old counters and broken glass barriers blocking their path. Even through the mess they spotted the metal shelves, once chock-full of miscellaneous medications, now appearing dusty and barren.

"Well that's not disheartening at all…" Virgil mumbled, trying the door leading into the area. By some means, it had remained locked through everything, causing him to sigh. "We'll have to climb over the counters, so watch for glass."

"What, as opposed to rolling in it?" Roman teased playfully, pushing himself onto the desk and stepping over the shards as if they were nothing. He hopped down to the other side, feet landing silently on the tile as he extended his arms to do some kind of over dramatic jazz hands.

Virgil shook his head in disapproval, rolling his eyes before climbing over and joining Roman across the desk. He began searching the shelves, and Roman stepped over to nudge his side.

"Come on, take a joke. Don't be a Debbie Downer, this is supposed to be about us talking, right?"

"It is, but I'm not that much of a downer, it just wasn't a good joke. I thought you were supposed to be more creative after so many years in theater, but even Patton's dad jokes are better than that."

Roman scoffed and tried to defend himself, but Virgil just opted to ignore him and press forward-- continuing his mission to find at least one useful bottle of pills in all the clutter. There were bags everywhere, and empty containers of disinfectant were strewn about. An unnaturally pink substance sat hardened around some rotten plastic bottle, and a box of vitamins was broken open on the ground. Dried blood was splattered around all of it. Did people really fight tooth and nail over some Pepto-Bismol? Virgil averted his gaze, he didn't want to think about that. 

He instead focused on brushing through dust and old cobwebs, eventually coming across a spider curled up in one of them. Looking closer, he found it to be a harmless house spider staring up at him in what Virgil assumed was confusion from never having seen a human before. He knew he was most likely just projecting, and that the bug couldn't care less about his presence, but he slowly reached towards it nonetheless. To his surprise, it crawled right up onto his hand before settling down, and Virgil couldn't help but smirk as he brought it closer.

"Huh, hey there little guy. What're you doing here? Seems like you'd have more to eat if you bunkered down somewhere less empty…"

"Who are you talking to, Virgil?" Roman asked, peeking his head around one of the shelves.

Virgil held out the spider for him to see, "Check it out."

Roman blinked, "You're… talking to a creepy spider? Why do you feel the need to do that?"

"Psh, leave him alone. Just be grateful I'm not showing him to Patton."

"What, do you  _ want  _ to give that man a heart attack? You know he faces cowardice when it comes to, as he so delicately puts it, 'creepy crawly death dealers', and wouldn't appreciate your new friend there."

Virgil rolled his eyes and allowed the spider to crawl back onto its web, "Whatever, I'll leave him, but he's harmless anyway."

Roman crossed his arms, but reminded himself to take a deep breath and remember the topic at hand. Or rather, the topic that was  _ supposed  _ to be at hand. 

"Alright, the spider isn't that bad. He's harmless, and I guess he's cute. I just don't have the biggest appreciation for things with that many eyes."

Virgil smirked slightly as an idea came to mind, "You like starfish, don't you?"

"Yes..?" Roman said, "I don't see how that's relevant."

"They have an eye on each limb, meaning some have up to  _ forty _ ."

Roman paused in thought, and Vigil snickered slightly at the gears he could practically see turning in the man's head.

"That's… fine. Yes, that's totally, completely fine." He cleared his throat, "Well, anyways!"

"Anyways..?" Virgil asked, quirking a brow.

"We paired up this time to keep talking, right? Can you please tell me more about what it was like in your group with Remus?"

He was surprised for a moment, not expecting the other man to cool his head so fully and wish to speak already. But if Roman could do it, Virgil supposed he could too.

"Well… like I said, we were a weird combination. There was rarely a dull moment, and we were all trying to deal with the shit we didn't have time for in the past. I don't know if they and I would have stayed friends if it weren't for the end, but we ended up pretty close with all the time we spent together. Remus was always kinda odd, but he somehow managed fine when things got serious. He just kinda… accepted things, when they went wrong, or even when they got fucked up. He seemed to get over everything so fast, Dee and I always secretly wished we could do the same."

Roman nodded slowly, "Right… I guess it's good he didn't dwell on everything, then."

Virgil agreed and glanced to the side, unsure of where to take the conversation next. Luckily though, Roman did that for him.

"Did he ever mention me at all? The fact that he had a brother?"

"Not often. At least, not to me," said Virgil, almost wishing to stretch the truth so that the other man wouldn't feel so hurt.

"Ah, I see…" he shook his head, "Well, I suppose that's fair, it isn't as if I've brought him up much either."

"I guess it was a hard subject for both of you." Virgil looked back, wondering rather or not to ask the question that's been burning in his mind since they arrived. Now seemed like the best time, he decided, that way this malaise wouldn't have to resurface on a later date. "So, Roman… back there, you said he got sick. Neither of them ever mentioned anything like that, I always assumed he was just kinda like that naturally. Was he not?"

Roman paused for a moment, a look on crossing his face that Virgil didn't fully recognize. There were too many feelings to place, somehow all wrapped up in one expression. Finally, he shook his head. "No, he wasn't."

"What..." Virgil tried, "What was he like?"

Roman seemed to have psyched himself up enough to speak now, and he balled his hands into encouraging fists. "...He used to be much less disturbed, to say the least. Well mannered, patient, even shy, if you believe it." He chuckled weakly, almost as if he struggled to believe his own words. "We even used to make up fairytales together. He tried to afterwards, I suppose, but they were never wholesome tellings, and they certainly didn't end with happily ever afters. Everything became twisted, and distorted, it was clear he was troubled."

"Oh my god…" mumbled Virgil, "What even  _ causes that? _ I mean, I didn't even know that was possible."

"I didn't either, especially as a child. But when 'neurological functions are impaired', apparently anything can happen…"

"Do you mean like brain damage..?" he asked hesitantly.

Roman nodded, confirming the question solemnly, "Exactly... You see, he contracted meningitis at around eight, and was in the hospital for weeks on end. He survived, somehow, but he was… really never the same after. The change was so drastic I hardly recognized my own twin, Virge. And worse yet, we soon realized that his new behaviour was only the tip of the iceberg. Like the glacier that sank the Titanic, it all snuck up on us. He'd have these outbursts, and his thought patterns were so…. bizzare. He'd even have seizures sometimes. And before you say anything, I  _ know _ it isn't that way for most people, I really do, but for some reason, it was for him."

"I wasn't going to say anything about that," Virgil assured, "You've spent too much time around Logan… I know it's a shitty feeling to get such a short end of the stick, and to have people on the outside act like they know more about a situation than you, even if you're the one who experienced it. I'm sorry all that happened, Roman."

"Thank you," he sighed in relief, "It's just- even some of the professionals meant to be helping us acted that way. I mean, I know my family didn't handle it  _ perfectly _ , and that we didn't help as much as we wished to… but still, having our grievances shut down isn't what he needed. I'm sure he needed the opposite, really. For us to have listened, and not have snubbed out all the strange things he said… Pretending not to hear, telling him to stop for reasons he didn't fully comprehend-- I know now that none of those efforts could silence his intrusive thoughts. If anything, I'm sure we accidentally made it worse to some degree. Especially me being so jealous of the attention… God, I was such a fool."

Virgil shook his head, speaking matter-of-factly. "No, you were a kid. And literally every kid wants attention, dude…" 

He found himself subconsciously going back to searching as he spoke, kneeling down to check for any bottles that could have fallen under the shelves. "I'm not gonna pretend to understand what you were feeling, but it's totally expected that you'd feel jealous. Don't let something so natural eat you up inside." 

Roman gave a faint smile, uncrossing his arms and turning to face his friend. "Since when are you the voice of reason around here?"

"Since always, you just don't listen enough. Especially when we're talking about harbouring guilt and anxieties. Like, I've dealt with that my whole life, so I'm bound to have learned at least a few coping mechanisms along the way." Virgil's eyes scanned the floor, and through the dust he spotted a few of the ever classic orange bottles. " _ Oh! Sick," _ he whispered.

"Did you find something?"

"I did," he said, pulling the bottles over and moving to view them in the light shining through the window.

Roman stepped over and looked at the bottles, "Three of them? What are they?"

"Um… Escitalopram, Pantoprazole, and holy shit, this last one is Penicillin."

"You're kidding. Like the antibiotic?" Roman took the bottle from Virgil's hand to examine it, a genuine smile crossing his face with the confirmation. The mood in the room changed quickly, and Roman seemed to radiate hope again. "This is amazing, it could be a real godsend. Do you know how rare antibiotics are these days?"

Virgil nodded, a smirk on his face. "It's a real score. And I think the Escitalopram is some kind of antidepressant, for MDD and anxiety. Logan kinda made me memorize the suffix for those meds. Azepam, Axine, Lopram, Pramine, all of those represent them, and this one ends in Lopram. I mean, obviously I still won't be taking it without asking him though, I'd rather have him double check before I down some random perception we found. I'm definitely not the expert, especially when it comes to whatever that last bottle is. We'll have to ask him about that one, because I have no idea."

Roman nodded as well, though he admittedly didn't fully understand, "I'm guessing that Escitalopram thing isn't what you've been taking, though?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Of course not, that'd be way too easy… I've been taking Paroxetine this whole time, but it's almost gone now. I'm not too keen on switching abruptly, but it might be better than nothing."

Roman nodded, and Virgil rolled the bottle around in his palm before placing all three of them into his bag. He was dreading the side effects that would undeniably come from suddenly beginning a new medication and ending his old. But the pills allowed him to keep a level head, and he needed that, side effects or not.

"You know…" he began again, "Dee is actually the one who recommended I start taking these. I was a mess, and I mean a total fucking disaster, when this first strated. Then one day he came back from a hunt with at least ten bottles full of Paroxetine, and insisted I take two pills everyday. I've had the same ones since, and they're just now running out. Honestly, I don't know how he managed it, but it… God, it may well have saved my life."

"You mean like..?" Roman trailed off, not wanting the morbid words to leave his lips, "Jeez, Virge, I had no idea."

"It's okay," he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face again, "It was a hard time for everyone, I'm sure. But we should get back to work now, we have this whole store to search, and we've barely finished the pharmacy."

"Right, we should check out the other areas too. I wonder how Patton and Logan are doing with their scavenging."

"Probably better than us, not getting interrupted by heartfelt moments."

They chuckled softly to each other, and across the store, the other duo worked away in their own search. Logan was checking over the top shelves in the back storage area, and Patton knelt beside him, looking underneath the surfaces to see if anything had been missed.

Logan felt something cylinder and cold as he dragged his hand along, covered in a thin paper sheathe acting as a wrapper. It was weighted, indicating it was full.

"I found a can of something," he said, pulling it towards himself.

"Really? What is it?"

Logan shone the flashlight on the can, its label a faded design of pale blues, whites, and yellows. "It's pineapple chunks."

Patton gasped and hopped up, smiling as he took the can from Logan's grasp.

"Oh, alright then. You're rather excited."

"Finding pineapple is like finding candy these days! This'll be so delicious. We should save it for something special."

"Something… special? What exactly qualifies as special in times such as this?"

Patton shrugged and popped the can into his bag, "Lots of stuff, I bet. A birthday, or a holiday. Or maybe just a rainy day where we need a pick-me-up."

"Why would we need a pick-me-up on a day that happens to be overcast? Rain means water, and that's crucial for our survival. Therefore if anything, it's reason to rejoice."

He chuckled, "Yes, it is. But I was using the metaphor, like a bad day we could turn around with something sweet. Littearly, in this case."

"Ah, of course. I mean, that would be an idiom, but of course. Still, I'm surprised to hear that you wish to save it for a later date. You always tell us to bypass that tendency, and to enjoy things in the present. Especially considering, by your own definition, most days would be rainy now."

"Well, I didn't say  _ that _ ," corrected Patton. "Maybe you interrupted it that way? I only said it meant having a bad day. Do you… Do you think most days are bad, Lo?"

Logan blinked, "Well, certainly not. We're very fortunate to have the arrangements that we do. It wouldn't be very objective to refer to our situation  _ 'bad' _ , not with all of the deplorable alternatives out there. It just isn't optimal, obviously."

"What would you consider optimal?" He asked, returning to his search now that he confirmed his friend _didn't_ see everyday as dismal.

"Realistically? A new radio." Logan chuckled to himself slightly, "But ideally? A safe haven would be fantastic, don't you agree? A trustworthy community of individuals willing to cooperate and work with one another. Though if cinema has anything to say on the matter, it's quite unlikely one would last long before a rogue group decides they no longer want to follow the rules."

"I do agree that a whole community of people working together would be fantastic," Patton said with a smile, "And I don't think it would be as unlikely for one to exist as you say. I'm sure there's some out there already! Like, do you remember before the radio broke, how we picked up on these people talking about trying to start one up? Maybe once we do find a radio, we can use it to track that place down!"

For once, Logan let the technicalities slip away and allowed a small grin to cross his face, "I would like that very much, Patton."

Patton chuckled and hopped up again, grabbing hold of Logan's hands. "I would, too. Now  _ I'm _ going to go check some other aisles, there's nothing else under here. I think it's probably okay if we're a few rows apart now, if there was something around here, we would have found it already."

He nodded in agreement, "In which case, I'll do the same. There's no use in hanging around in storage any longer, as it appears the pineapple will be our only attainment here."

"You could say that it was the only  _ fruit  _ these shelves had to bear," Patton quipped.

"Oh, I see. Like the food group that pineapple lands in, and the result of our labor. That's clever."

Patton smiled pridefully at the compliment, "Thank you, Lo." He slipped his fingers through Logan's as he stepped back, "Now, let's keep looking."

The two split up in their search, the blond heading down one aisle, and the brunet down another. As Patton mentioned, the place did seem clear enough to do so, after all. In fact, the entire  _ area _ was lacking in Infected for some reason. Not that they were complaining of such a feat, of course. It simply made Logan wonder, even in spite of his previous dismissal.

Logan turned down a new row, gazing upon the smaller shelves outside of the storage area. He didn't see much of anything, but he really didn't expect much else. Everything of use seemed to have been taken long ago, replaced by dust and blank spaces where life saving items once sat. The only products remaining were all the way at the other end of the aisle, and they were nothing more than an empty bottle of nail polish remover, and a cluster of cheap glass vases filled with flowers so wilted it was impossible to tell what they once were. There were faint remains of liquid resting in the bottoms of the vases-- the slightest bit of bacteria-ridden water that was somehow yet to evaporate. Logan scutched up his nose at the thought.  _ Disgusting _ . The world these days was disgusting.

He continued searching nonetheless, observing the shelving until he heard footsteps clicking against the tile behind him.

"Patton, did you find-" he turned around as he spoke, breath catching in his throat at the sight now before him. He had no idea where Patton was, but the disheveled creature twitching away and blocking the start of the aisle, was most certainly  _ not  _ him. Logan took a step back, slow and cautious. He hoped to hell it wouldn't attack, but that hope did nothing, for the instant it spotted him moving, it charged like a bull. Logan may as well have been taunting the thing and waving a flag in its face, because it raced after him, and it was all he could do to turn and run.

He made it to the end of the aisle before something caught his foot, sending him crashing to the ground and knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped desperately, eyes darting down to see a tripwire made of transparent fishing line barely visible in the dark. The Infected lunged at him, and Logan just barely managed to scramble up enough to shove it away. It cashed backwards into the shelf, causing it to wobble as the creature made some strange attempt to grasp on. Logan tried to scoot away, but the shelf came tumbling down along with the creature, landing atop them both with a booming  _ CRASH! _

Logan screamed and tried to scramble away, hit with a shooting pain as the enraged creature gnarled and clawed for him. "H-help!!"

Patton skidded around the corner, spotting Logan trapped under the shelf. "Oh, my God! Logan!"

Roman and Virgil followed in tow of Patton, and they all dashed into action. Roman braced himself and plunged his knife into the creature's head, it finally ceasing its movement and falling limp. 

"What happened?!" shouted Virgil, "Fuck, that was so much noise. We have to hurry before more show up, let's lift u-  _ oh, Lord _ ."

"Wh-what is it??" Logan asked, following Virgil's gaze down to the floor.

Blood.

Lots and lots of blood, all seeping out from under the shelf crushing Logan's lower half. The man went pale, slumping back against the ground and mumbling frantically. He tried to shove the shelf away, but it wouldn't even budge.

"Logan, hey, hey," Patton pulled Logan's hands away, holding them and squeezing tight. "It's okay, just breathe. We're gonna get this off of you."

Logan gasped, practically hyperventilating but gripping hard to Patton's hands. "Vase- the vases- glass-" his words left his mouth as nearly incomprehensible pleas, and he knew he was the only one who truly understood what he meant.

"Can you guys lift this while I try and calm him down??" Patton asked, going back to shushing Logan softly when given the chance.

"We can," stated Roman, gesturing for Virgil to move. "Get that side, I'll get this one."

Virgil nodded and rushed to grab one end of the shelf, Roman doing the same for the other and giving a countdown. 

"On three. One, two, three-!"

They heaved the shelf from the ground, Logan letting out another scream that he failed to stifle as tears welled up in his eyes. He gripped onto Patton's hands like his life depended on it, choking back sobs and fighting with his brain telling him to push everything away. Shards of glass were embedded into his legs, slicing clear through his jeans and into his flesh. Red pooled around his wounds, and crushed dead flowers scattered around him. 

Logan tried his best to sit up and study the scene, but Patton was quick to usher him back down before the gore could meet his gaze. "Shhh, no. Don't try and sit up, not yet."

He squeezed his eyes shut and laid his head on the ground, wrapped up in a suffocating amount of pain and panic that he wasn't used to in any sense. Faintly in the distance, he picked up on the sound of staggering, and he let out another whimper.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. More are coming," Virgil whispered, his heart pounding with an all too familiar fear.  _ This couldn't be happening.  _ "We need to get out of here!"

"What do we do??" asked Patton, watching Virgil look around quickly in thought.

"Roman and I found a break room after the pharmacy. Maybe- maybe we can hide there. I don't think we can escape through the front, we won't get far like this."

"You should just- just lea-" Logan began.

"Shut up," Virgil snapped, "just shut up, let's get to the back."

"But- but it's the safest option for-"

Virgil cut him off once more, "Are you going to pick him up Patton, or do I have to?"

"I- I got it!" Patton let go of Logan's hands and pulled him into his arms instead, the injured man yelping in pain and gripping onto the other tightly.

Roman led them towards the breakroom in a hurry, and Virgil lingered behind momentarily as the undead scrambled closer. As soon as possible, he shoved the shelf back over, pressing all his weight against it in order to slam it down over the approaching creatures. The closest ones went crashing down underneath, and the further seemed briefly distracted by all the noise and struggle.

"Virgil!" Patton called out, and the man took his chance to catch up with his friends. Slowed down by carrying Logan, they'd just reached the door by the time he arrived, so it was only now they could all rush inside and slam the door shut.

Virgil spotted an old fridge in the corner, and he waved Roman over to it as Patton placed Logan onto a couch.

"Help me push this in front of the door," he ordered, beginning to move the refrigerator before even receiving a reply. Roman was quick to join him, and the two men were able to shove it into place just as banging started outside the door. Once the entrance was secured, Virgil slumped back against the wall with his hands in his hair. He pressed them against his skull and slid down to the ground, eyes darting around at everything around him.

The room was cramped, and the only other opening was a tiny little window near the ceiling, too small for any of them to squeeze through if they tried. Logan was sprawled on the couch with his composure broken, blood still oozing from his wounds as Patton stood over him whispering hushed condolences. And Roman, he was looking right at him, but Virgil still struggled to make out anything he was saying.

This couldn't be happening again.

It just couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As said before, comments are always very much appreciated! Next chapter we get some time with the other group! If you can call two people a group, that is.


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in the distance, Janus sat around a kindling fire with Remus at his side. He leaned against a fallen log fiddling with their handheld radio, while the other man sprawled out on the forest floor, uncaring that it was further dirtying his clothes. It was typical, in all honesty, and both men were tired after a long day of traveling. Their efforts were beginning to feel more and more fruitless the longer they were unable to find shelter, not to mention getting service in the woods was practically impossible. It had been weeks now, and Janus felt as if he may well lose his mind if he had to spend much longer in this filth, even if his companion hardly seemed to mind. He set the radio aside in defeat and pulled his shawl closer, wrapping it further around his form to protect from the elements.

"You know, it  _ could _ be raining like it was last week," Remus said as he observed the action, presumably to offer some sort of condolence for their poor circumstances.

"It could, I suppose," Janus agreed, allowing the fabric to fall aside enough for him to reach out and turn the contraption being used to cook the food they'd caught. He'd much prefer it didn't burn, after all.

"So relax already! You look so tense, there's probably more knots in your back than in shibari art."

Janus rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the remark, "Not at all."

Remus shrugged in disbelief and pushed himself from the dirt, crawling up behind his friend to rub his back. He pressed his thumbs down firmly, turning them in circular motions to relive the points of stress in his muscles.

"What exactly are you doing?" Janus asked in confusion, and Remus simply laughed.

"Proving I was right. Can't you feel this tension? It has to be so uncomfortable, how high-strung are you?"

"I'm not high-strung," he argued, rolling his shoulders and batting Remus away.

"Ah yes, because the apocalypse is so blissful. Of course you couldn't be stressed." Remus laid back down, though this time he rested himself across the fallen tree, upside down with his back against the bark, joining Janus in basking in the fire. He extended his hands and held them near the flames, letting out a sigh of relief and wiggling his fingers at the warmth it provided. "But it's still only radio static?"

"Unfortunately. There's no way to get a signal with all these trees surrounding us. I've tried, and tried, it's useless until we get out of here."

"Hmmm…" he hummed and stretched his hands further, "we better not lose the broadcast all together. That would make all of this  _ totally _ pointless."

"Don't be unreasonable, of course we won't lose track of it entirely. We'll continue following the directions until we reach the location it's describing."

"You mean North Windex or whatever?"

"South Wadnix," Janus corrected, "And yes, we should find it eventually. If we're on the right track, we'll be able to settle down at the FSA soon enough."

" _ If _ ," Remus parroted, looking back to the fire. It seemed he had only taken that word from his friend's explanation.

Janus glanced towards him with a sigh, the man's brown hair a mess that stuck up in all directions as his head hung over the log. White strands were strewn about in the front, coming from a melanin-free patch on his scalp and that caused anything growing from it to lack pigment. Poliosis, Janus believed it was called, or at least that's what he'd been told. Hints of the condition could be seen in the man's other features as well, such as a cluster of white lashes over his left eye, making the green of his iris even more prominent, and even causing the occasional white hair in his moustache. Janus liked to tease that Remus was going to be left with all silver hair by the end of things. It was an amusing thought, and they teased one another frequently. He'd known that boy since childhood, after all, so such mocking was inevitable. It made the chaos of life feel more normal, even if their shared past wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, either. Yes, Janus had such luck as to know Remus since they were kids-- since way before he fell ill. But of course, that also meant bearing witness to said infection when it inevitably rolled around, and watching helplessly as it broke the boy's life apart. He hated to admit how much it broke his heart to lose a part of the Remus he once knew, but he hated even more when people acted as if he was gone entirely. Although different, the man was still alive, still  _ there _ . Janus knew, because he'd stuck by his side the entire time.

He recalled this old pain as he turned back to the fire, black curls falling down over his dimly lit face. He let out a huff, running a hand across his cheek to feel the dry skin below his fingertips. He wanted to be done thinking about it, all of it, but his own afflictions prodded around in his mind as well. At least he could rattle those off without any of the confusion that came with trying to remember whatever the hell caused white hair to pop up randomly. Everyone had a feature they grew up hating, and for him, it was a birthmark. A port-wine stain that covered the left side of his face, patterning itself down his body, over his shoulder, and down his arm. He remembered the relentless bullying he used to receive for it, and how people called him such unclever, albeit still rather hurtful, names. He'd always been told by his family that he should consider himself lucky it never worsened-- lucky that it never became horribly swollen or disfiguring like it did for some. Janus figured that maybe, he was somewhat lucky for that after all, even if the mark did cause the affected area to be uncomfortably dry, and if its lack of treatment throughout his young life led to other issues. The worst of which, in his opinion, was most certainly the increased optical pressure from the mark's placement over his eye.  _ That's called a glaucoma _ , they'd said, and although it only caused mild visual impairment back when he had access to medication, the end of the world allowed it to progress freely. Slowly but surely, he was left in his current state, practically fucking blind in one eye. Sure, it could make out the fact there was a light source in front of him, but nothing more. Janus could only thank his lucky stars that his other eye remained healthy, granting him mostly normal vision if not for the frustrating lack of depth perception.

"Hey, Dee?" Remus asked, crawling over the log and finally sitting down normally beside Janus, pulling the man from his thoughts in the process.

"Yes?" 

"You're caught up in your own head again."

Janus shrugged, staying quiet with nothing to say. He pressed his teeth into his tongue, rolling the two halves around in his mouth. He'd gotten it split when he finished highschool, a body modification he enjoyed using to scare the people who called him a snake.  _ Lying, curel, and stuck half way through shedding its skin _ , they'd say. He used to find their reactions hilarious when he took their insults and ran with them as if they were nothing.

Remus sighed and poked his friend's shoulder, "You know what  _ I've _ been caught up about?"

"What is it?" Janus asked, "and I  _ swear  _ if you make another bondage joke I will-"

"Not that," he chuckled, "I mean,  _ I wish _ , but not that. I've been thinking about Virgil."

Immediately, anxiety settled into the air, and Janus felt his form stiffen. Remus, however, went on nonetheless, rarely being one to bother reading the room. "What do you think the odds are that he's okay? I mean, I know  _ realistically _ they can't be great, but I like to assume there's a chance, don't you?"

Janus turned to look at the other man, debating his words before speaking, "I don't know, Reem. We left him with the bag, helped him hide, it's always possible."

The brunet nodded and yawned, stretching out his arms and laying on Janus, "That's vague, I can see you're just trying to reassure me. I don't enjoy the image of those zombies tearing him apart either, but you could make your responses realistic. I hate when you baby me."

Janus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "One last request then, how about you just rest until dinner is done? You're obviously tired."

"Fine…" he mumbled, settling in and closing his eyes without dispute for once.

Janus watched as Remus fell asleep, how his buried tension faded away, and how his breathing evened out. Janus was tired too, but by now it was more of an emotional exhaustion than a physical one. The world in this day in age was draining, and what happened to Virgil still took its toll on him. He knew it always would, and he could still remember what happened as if it were yesterday...

Virgil had been doing rounds in the house they once used as a base, checking over every entrance to ensure they were properly barricaded. He always ran through the same steps like clockwork, the boy's anxiety getting the better of him unless he inspected any possible way an Infected could break in. Even on days they hadn't stepped foot out of the house, and therefore left their blockades in place the entire time, he would still check. Janus couldn't say he fully understood; such repetitive, paranoia fueled tasks never made sense to him, though he couldn't bring himself to complain. For not only did it keep them safer, but he'd already adapted to a lifetime of strange antics from Remus. 

Janus sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of the house, Remus across from him as they attempted to play a game of cards. A lantern illuminated their space enough to make out the cards, though Janus still found himself squinting in order to make out the small numbers. He'd suggested they play  _ Bullshit _ , as he knew just how great he'd been at a game based around bluffing the value of your cards, but his request was denied due to three players being required to play, and Vigril not being available due to his nightly obsession walk. That, and of course his lying habits, but those made trusting him during any game difficult.

"Have any 3s?" Janus asked tiredly, looking down at the red three of diamonds slotted in his hand.

Remus didn't respond, simply staring blankly at the deck on the ground.

Janus sighed and snapped his fingers, "Remus? Hello?"

He still received no answer, and began to recognise the look in the boy's eyes. Remus began to fall back, and Janus cursed before dropping his cards in order to reach his side fast enough. He allowed the man to fall into his lap before guiding him to lay down, muscles beginning to jerk as Janus shrugged off his jacket to put under Remus's head. The man was shaking and convulsing as Janus struggled to turn him into his side, knowing he could aspirate if he continued seizing on his back.

"Fuck, shit- Virgil! Get back here!"

He knew he'd need help when Remus came out of his seizure, his cognitive state afterwards was almost always delirious and forgetful, and he frequently tried to wander off into the dangerous hellscape that was the outside.

"I'm checking the doors!" he heard Virgil shout back, and Janus groaned in frustration.

"Now!"

Virgil ran back then, the obvious desperation causing him to abandon his routine and hurry back to his friends. He rushed to kneel beside the two, observing Remus and glaring slightly at Janus.

"You didn't have to yell so loud, they'll hear you out there."

Janus rolled his eyes, "Oh excuse me, not at all my intention. I needed help."

Virgil sighed, eyes shifting to look at Remus who had accidentally scattered the deck of cards by kicking it as his legs jolted. "Look, I'm sorry, I just haven't had the chance to check every entrance and I don't want them getting inside."

Janus nodded, somewhat understanding. But this was  _ stressful _ , it always was. "I still wish he remembered the name of the medication that helped prevent these. I wouldn't even know what to begin looking for given the chance."

"I guess that would be too easy," Virgil said, clearly hoping the seizure would end soon. Janus knew he must have been counting down the seconds, afraid it may eventually surpass the five minute mark. They were supposed to seek emergency care under those circumstances, but such a thing was impossible now.

"What if we-"

A crashing bang resounded from the back of the house, and the two conscious men immediately tensed.

"They're at one of the doors, I didn't finish checking them all," Virgil rushed his words, hands beginning to shake.

"Virgil, settle down. I know I blocked them all when we got back earlier."

The man's anxiety was still obvious, and he rang a hand through the faded purple of his hair. He wanted to believe it, but was struggling, and although he stayed in place he couldn't help but stare towards the jarring noise that was only increasing.

Remus finally ceased shaking, slowly coming out of his seizure and beginning to come to his senses. His head lulled and his eyes darted around in confusion before he tried to push himself into a sitting position.

"Okay Remus, it's alright," said Janus, attempting to comfort the dazed man and lay him back down to recuperate. Virgil was doing his best to help even while suffering his own state of panic, and although it didn't make much of a difference, his efforts were appreciated.

The noises continued steadily before becoming louder in an instant, a splintering series of snaps followed immediately by a crash of the doors falling, making the very ground beneath them shake. A sea of gurgled groans flooded the home, and it was a sound Janus could never forget.

"They're inside!" yelled Virgil, jumping to his feet and helping Janus pull Remus into a standing position as well.

The man couldn't stay up alone, so Janus had to support him with one arm while tugging a gun from its holder with the other. Virgil rushed to the window to gauge the state of the front yard, and judging by his reaction, Janus could tell it wasn't good.

"Get upstairs!" he ordered, leaving no time to argue as he grabbed the two emergency bags from beside the front door and rushed everyone up. They all struggled to get Remus up the stairs, he was in such a dazed and alarmed state with his mind barely working, that he could hardly function. 

A horde of the Infected began stumbling into the living room, and Virgil had to draw his own weapon in order to shoot down the faster ones that came too close.

_ Bang! Bang! Bang! _

He pushed them forward and through the nearest door, slamming it shut after them. Janus stumbled into the room with Remus, leaving Virgil scrambling to lock the door and shove a nearby dresser in front. He was already panting, and Janus was doing all he could to keep his cool as Remus began to ask what was happening. The Infected could be heard staggering up the stairs, rushing and pushing one another out of the way in order to reach the door and thrash at it all over again. It was unclear how long it would hold-- ideally they would be able to wait it out until the creatures gave up, but that could take days, and they likely had closer to a few minutes.

"I can't- I can't believe you left the weakest set of doors in the house unbarricaded!" Virgil yelled.

The double doors out back, he'd opened them to haul things inside easier. Of course they'd be easy to bust down, could he seriously have forgotten to put things back? It was such an old house, they always had to block things up to keep them in order. Janus sat Remus down to let him rest, turning towards Virgil with fear in his eyes, "I didn't. I know I didn't!" 

"This isn't the time to make shit up! We all could've _ died,  _ Janus!"

"I  _ know for a fact  _ that I blocked it off. At least I think I did?? I could have sworn!"

Remus groaned and held his head, mumbling his first sensical sentence since his episode, "you two are louder than a grinder full of pigs… louder than the zombies…"

They both looked to the tired boy, forcing themselves to quiet down for his shake. Remus was right, for once, the Infected were trying harder than ever to get inside, and they still weren't in the clear.

Janus took a deep breath to regain his composure, "We should go out through the window, most likely we can sneak down from there."

Virgil was still shaking, but he nodded and looked towards Remus, "Yeah- yeah sure, I'll get it open, whatever…" He made his way to the window, sliding it open before cautiously popping out the screen, his breathing beginning to quicken as the noises increased in volume.

" _ You _ need to slow your breathing, mister..." Remus mumbled, attempting to stand on his own but still unable to without the support of Janus.

"I know, I know," he argued, gazing out the window to take note of the conditions. Most of the Infected were making their way towards the back of the house, slowly piling in and joining the others in trying to break down the final obstacle separating them from a live meal. There were much more in the area than usual, and it seemed as if the team's scavenging mission earlier had lured more of them over.

Virgil took a deep breath as instructed, shaking out his hands and turning to face his friends. "Let's give it a few minutes. That way Remus can recover enough to make it out safely, and the more of the Infected will have left the front where they can see us. We'll crawl along the roofing and climb down the side wall near the front, it's the furthest away from the back door they're going to."

"Sounds like a plan, Stan…" chuckled Remus, continuing to hold his head and laugh through this apparent discomfort.

Janus added his weight to the dresser blocking the door as it began to shake on its hinges, pressing against it as much as he could. The more damage the creatures noticed they were doing, the more enticed they would be to break their way in. That was the last thing they needed.

"I don't think we have much time here, Verge…" he said, looking between his two teammates, one of which was pacing and shaking his hands, the other only just standing on his own and trying to force himself into a state of alertness.

"Is Remus even in any condition to try and get across the roof?" Virgil asked, "He could fall like that and-"

"I'm right here," Remus cut in, "You can talk to me. I'm disoriented, not one of those walking corpses."

"I'm sorry, you're just struggling, and they're just so  _ loud- _ "

"It's okay, everyone's fine," Janus tried, pressing his back harder against the dresser, "we're all okay, let's just get out the window now."

Virgil nodded quickly and grabbed Remus's hand, crawling out the window and assisting the other man to do the same. Even though he was coming to his senses, the anxious boy didn't want to take any risk of letting him fall. Virgil guided him to sit, and seeing they were safely outside, Janus took his chance to dash to the window and onto the roof, sliding the glass shut behind him for that little extra security. He joined the other two in sitting on the shingles, looking down at the Infected that scrambled towards their back door. Pale, boney, rotting bags of flesh that shouldn't be moving, let alone fighting like deranged animals who all wanted to reach their prey first. But, there they were.

Janus felt his stomach churn, and even he struggled to stifle a shaky breath. He looked towards their new destination-- the next step was to get to the front of the house and then down the side. They'd pulled off much harder, they could manage this too.

"Come on, let's get moving," he whispered, slowly scooting to the front with the others in tow. They eventually reached it, and all of the undead in sight had made their way behind the house. This was the only chance they had at escaping, and they all knew how important it was they didn't fuck it up.

"Okay…" Janus breathed, "Let's get down. I'll go first, then Remus, then you Virgil. That way we have someone at the bottom and the top in case he needs help."

Virgil nodded, and Remus rolled his eyes but agreed nonetheless. They allowed Janus to make his way down the side of the house first, scaling his way cautiously and doing everything in his power to keep a good hold on whatever he grabbed. His lack of depth perception made it harder than it should be, and he likely crept down slower than necessary, just in order to remain silent and balanced. He eventually reached the ground, his feet planting firmly against the dirt and finding stability again. Remus followed closely behind, beginning to make his way down once Janus was safely stood aside. He watched nervously as the man crawled down, but Remus eventually reached the bottom unharmed as well, giving Janus a pat on the back.

"Stop worrying already, I'm capable of getting to the ground just fine," he whispered, and Janus knew he was more than likely right. He seemed almost back to normal, and despite everything, the man could usually handle situations requiring physical activity without a problem. Thanks to the years of gymnastics his family put him through in hopes of regaining strength, Janus always figured.

Virgil dropped down the emergency bags, of which Janus caught and swung over his arm before waving the last man down from the roof. Virgil then began his trek after them, doing his best to follow the same path he knew to be stable and workable. His knuckles were white with how tightly clutched onto each ridge that met his hands, and his breath hitched when the drainage pipe he was using for support creaked loudly. He stopped dead like a deer in the headlights, a list of the worst possible outcomes instantly rushing through his mind.

"Virgil!" Janus whisper-yelled, "It creaked for all of us, it's okay, just try and get down!"

He inhaled shakily but nodded his head, slowly convincing himself to keep going. Virgil mumbled to himself fearfully, the pipe continuing to complain at his movements.

_ Crack _ .

He froze again, looking up to see it breaking away from the wall. He did his best to rush down, even through the flood of panic that had settled in his chest, but it snapped away before he could make it much further. Virgil went crashing to the ground, landing square on his ankle that gave way under his weight and snapped to the side. He slapped a hand over his own mouth to avoid making any noise, though he was distantly aware it wouldn't make much of a difference, for his falling alone had no doubt alerted the undead still outside. They could already be heard growing closer.

Janus hurried to his side, placing a hand on Virgil's shoulder and squeezing it for comfort, "Shhh, you're okay, you're fine. We're going to get out of this." He looked down at the boy's ankle, seeing it bent out of place through his jeans.  _ At least he actually had a reason to lie for once _ .

"I'm gonna help you up now," he continued, "we'll have to hurry, but this still isn't impossible."

Virgil nodded as tears threatened his eyes, and Janus pulled him up. He could feel the force of his friend attempting to stand, pressing against him in a valiant effort to simply gain steady ground. The very thought of bearing weight on his freshly snapped ankle made Virgil flinch, but he knew hopping along wouldn't allow them to escape. Remus grabbed the bags from Janus and took the lead, ushering them forward as the Infected began coming around the back corner. They stumbled over the remains of the fence that had once offered an illusion of protection, and Janus quickly pulled Virgil along, the boy forcing himself to hobble forward. Each step was agonizing, and no matter how fast he tried to press on, the white hot pain shooting up his leg was slowing them down.

They barely made it down the street before Janus had to turn and shoot at the Infected, quickly left firing all of his remaining bullets until his gun clicked emptily. He cursed and returned the firearm to its holster, beginning to run again with Virgil struggling not to cry out from each step. Remus eventually led them into a cluster of trees, weaving through the woods in hopes of losing the creatures following them. It seemed to work momentarily, and they managed to buy themselves a few extra minutes thanks to the creatures low intellect.

Virgil pushed himself from Janus's grasp, leaning against a tree with his face scrunched up in pain, "St-stop, just stop. We can't get away like this."

Janus tried to put his arm around Virgil again, doing his best to support and drag him along. "Stop talking nonsense, we can get away fine, you just need to-"

He only pushed back again, "No, you two need to go. I can't- I can't run fast enough like this."

"We'll carry you," said Remus, but Virgil shook his head.

"There's… Fuck, there's no time, you need to leave."

"We aren't leaving you, Virgil! We'll- we'll climb one of these trees and wait it out!"

"You know we can't do that. Look at Remus, if he has another seizure up there he'd be dead. He'd fall right into the horde and it would be God awful. You know they won't leave for days if they see us all up there!"

"Virge-"

"Stop, now. This is- it's necessary, it's my decision. You're wasting time, you need to run."

They looked between each other guiltily before Janus narrowed his eyes. "No,  _ you're _ at least going to try and wait it out in the tree. It's a chance."

"We don't have-"

"I wasn't asking," he demanded, "this is our decision too, come on."

Virgil couldn't bring himself to argue anymore. He knew he wouldn't win, and the chance of survival sounded too sweet. Both Janus and Remus helped Virgil into the nearby tree, and he did his best to climb his way to safety through the pain.

"Wait, take this before you go higher," Janus said, holding up one of the emergency bags.

"I can't, you need those more. I probably won't even make it ou-"

"Take the bag or I'm going to leave it here on the ground for those things to take. I will, and you  _ know _ that I will."

Virgil debated it in his head, but as groans of the undead who'd found them again grew closer, he grabbed the bag and held it tight before crawling as high into the tree as he could manage. Janus dug his teeth into his lip in worry as he turned away from Virgil, grabbing onto Remus's hand and beginning to sprint away once more. They left the other man in the distance, hidden away in a tree with a freshly broken ankle and nothing but one bag of supplies to wait out an entire hoard of the Infected...

From that day onward, not even Janus was able to deceive himself into believing Virgil was safe. He always felt as if it was, "My fault..."

He said suddenly, snapping out of his daydream and back into the real world. The fire crackled and popped, sending little embers of flame into the crisp Autumn air. The scent of smoke ran through his nostrils, and the food cooking before him was crisping into a dark burn. Janus cursed and jumped forward to turn it, doing his best to salvage what little food they had. 

It felt as if he ruined everything he touched. If he'd just paid more attention. If he'd not let himself space out. If he'd been more careful.  _ If he only barricaded those fucking doors. _

None of this would have happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've been introduced to Janus and Remus! I know this chapter got wordy at times, but I did my best.
> 
> Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

Janus felt himself being shaken awake the next day, and he opened his eyes with a groan as the world faded back in around him. The sun was already in the sky, beaming down its warmth through the gaps in the trees. He sat up quickly as realization dawned on him, wondering why it was already morning. Remus said he'd take first watch after finding Janus so distressed about burning dinner, but he was still supposed to wake him up halfway through the night.

"Why is it morning already?" Janus asked, holding himself up with his arms.

"Because that's what we call it when the sun rises," Remus replied, either teasing or dodging the question entirely.

The tan man sighed, shaking his head, "No, why didn't you wake me up earlier? You were only supposed to let me sleep half the night so I could take second watch."

"You needed the sleep, Dee. You had so many bags under your eyes it was like some girl showing off her shopping haul, but instead of makeup, you're trying to unload all that trauma and stress of yours."

"Jesus Christ, Remus…" he mumbled, pressing on his temples, "This means you didn't even sleep for, what, more than 20 minutes? How do you expect to function today?"

"I can take it," he said with a wink, "It's not like you haven't done the same, anyway."

"I have not," he argued falsely, lowering his arms from his head and pushing himself to his feet.

"But you have, countless times! Literally, I've lost track. I mean, you used to preach and preach about self-care," said Remus, mimicking speech with his hand, "Where has that advice gone now?"

"Things change in the apocalypse, we can't exactly put everything on hold to take some mental health vacation. We have to focus on basic self-preservation."

Remus rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders, "Such quitter talk. Eventually we'll have shot down enough of those flesh bags to have a good time."

Janus sighed and looked over at their supplies to avoid eye-contact, unsure of how to respond. Was such a thing possible? Could their lives really be normal again? He brushed the thought aside and stepped away from Remus, grabbing hold of the bags and holding one out, "We should get going."

A look of disappointment seemed to flash across the brunet's face, but it was just as quickly replaced with a grin, "I see _someone's_ eager today. Okay, let's go."

Janus simply nodded and slipped the other bag over his shoulders-- weighted and achy on his back. He imagined his friend felt just as uncomfortable hauling around the heavy pack, if not even more so from his lack of sleep. The two walked together in momentary silence, before Remus became bored and whipped a butterfly knife from his pocket. He spun it around in his hand as if it weren't a lethal weapon, fingers practically dancing around the handles with surprising ease. It clattered sharply as its metal clinked against itself, and as usual, Janus was almost caught off guard by his friend's abilities. It was easy to forget how capable the man was, but in the moments he effortlessly twirled around a balisong, or shoved down his fear to bravely face the undead, one was reminded just how much of a force to be reckoned with he really was. He was stronger than he let on-- and smarter, too. Just how much of that was to surprise the enemy, and how much of it was a personal coping mechanism, Janus was never sure.

Remus chuckled as he noticed the other man staring, "What is it? See something you like?" He ceased his knife tricks and turned towards Janus, now walking sideways and holding out his arms to show off his form.

"What? No. Wait, shit, I mean- what kind of question even is that?"

Remus laughed again, holding his stomach with his free arm, "Boy, you're easy to fluster sometimes! Some good that extra sleep did you." He patted his friend on the back and shook his head, turning to face forward again and snickering as he went back to his tricks.

"I'm still waking up," he defended, "and the extent of your balisong abilities are surprising, that is all."

"Oh, Dee. You're so-" Remus went quiet as something shuffled through the shrubbery in the distance, both men standing in silence before turning towards the noise.

Janus's expression went cold in an instant, previous embarrassment swept away as if it were nonexistent. There was nothing new in sight, but anything within earshot meant possible danger, and it wasn't worth the risk. 

"Come on," Janus whispered, grabbing hold of Remus's hand and hurrying forward with him. Able to handle himself or not, Janus didn't want to risk leaving him behind. The idea of losing the man after everything quite literally made him sick to his stomach, it filled him with nausea and dread to the point he didn't even want to consider the possibility that it may well happen someday.

The shuffling noise began in the woods before them, the hauntingly familiar sound of something heavy shuffling through the woods filling their ears. Dead leaves crunched as a figure stumbled into view, face gaunt and peeling, whereas its abdomen was swollen with either puss or recently devowered flesh. It seemed to have once been a man, but a lanky and weak one. The hair on its head was knotted and greasy, appearing to have been an ashy blond colour in places not stained with blood. Its jaw was crooked and seemed to have been dislocated as it gnawed its yellow teeth. It was almost docile in that moment, but as soon as it spotted the pair observing it, a switch seemed to flick inside its sickly brain, and it charged into attack without hesitation.

"I got it," Remus rushed, hurrying forward towards the creature and swinging his knife towards its head. It stumbled away in order to dodge, letting out a guttural growl before clutching onto Remus's arm in attempt to bite him. He kicked behind the creature's legs, yanking his arm away as it fell to the forest floor. Remus slammed his foot down onto its neck, pressing forward and forcing its jaw shut as it choked out strange wails. It struggled and clawed, but its brittle nails did nothing through Remus's jeans, so he plunged his blade into its skull. The Infected seemed to whimper slightly before going limp, and its reaching arms fell down to its side.

Remus kicked it once to ensure he'd finished the job before nodding in accomplishment, pulling out his knife and wiping the bloodied blade into the grass, "There, he's dead."

Janus stepped forward to look at the creature, a thick, dark substance still oozing from the wound in its head. He looked back to Remus and smirked, watching as the man finished cleaning his blade with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket, "Thanks for handling that one."

"No problem, it was fun!" he said with a smile before flicking his knife closed.

Janus nodded, "I'm sure. But where there's one, there's often others, so we should keep going."

Remus nodded and threw an arm around Janus, pulling him along and taking large strides. He was always the one to initiate contact between them, and he did it often.

"So!" he began, "where do you think he came from? Somewhere close? He didn't look like he's been dead for that long, maybe there's a civilization nearby. Or was, at least. I guess it wouldn't be much of a civilization anymore if it's in a similar state to him."

"It could be a sign of life nearby," agreed Janus, disregarding the latter half of Remus's words, "maybe a group like the FSA, or an old city."

"Mmmm, cities mean stores... And houses! Oh Dee, I'd _kill_ to sleep in a bed again." He squeezed Janus tighter, smiling more as they walked.

"A mattress _does_ sound nice… much better than another night in the filthy woods, that's for sure. But let's not jump to conclusions just yet."

Remus only shrugged and they continued forward, the pair trekking forward side by side until they reached a clearing. The woods faded away behind them, pine trees and shrubs finally giving way to the miraculous sight of pavement. In front of them was a street, the roadside overgrown with weeds, but it was a street nonetheless. It ran sideways into the distance, and with enough squinting they could faintly make out the silhouettes of buildings.

"Look!" Remus said, pointing in the direction of the structure, "we're getting close!"

"There's actually a town…" he said in awe, "it's been so long, I almost can't believe it."

"Well you better start believing, because it's right there!" Remus said in an obnoxious sing-song voice, letting out a laugh.

Janus lit up for a moment, standing tall and beginning to dig through his bag. He pulled out their radio and stepped forward into the abandoned road, holding it up as he cranked the dials. The receiver sputtered to life, emitting a crackly robotic voice from its speaker. " _-nd general protection measures also continue. The FSA eagerly awaits new members to join its team. We will endure, we will rebuild. Over._ " The transmission crackled before restarting its loop, and Janus turned up the volume to hear what came next.

_"This is a broadcast by the Forsaken Survivor Alliance. We aim to reconnect fellow survivors who have been left abandoned to the world-- all individuals willing to collaborate are welcome. We are located in the center of South Wadnix, and have been working to clear the town of the Infected. Buildings, along with entrances to the town, have been marked with representative symbols correlating to the preexisting hobo code, as well as our own logo. Do not enter buildings marked for danger/guarded, as they have been converted into traps for the Infected. In most recent news, members have reported a team of thieves in the area. They refuse alliance, and will take supplies by force. Avoid them at all costs. We have tightened our sanctuary's security protocol, and general protection measures also continue. The FSA eagerly awaits new members to join its team. We will endure, we will rebuild. Over."_

Janus lowered the radio and flicked it off, "There's thieves nearby… but everything else is the same. The signal is stronger than it was before we entered the forest, though. I think we're finally getting close."

Remus gasped and bounced on his feet, "Really? Holy shit, we might actually _not_ die!"

"That's most certainly the goal," Janus said, returning the radio to his bag once more. "Let's get going again. If we hurry, we could make it to the start of the town up there before sundown. We might even find a proper place to sleep."

Remus smiled and marched forward, Janus turning to follow at his side. They continued along the road, keeping a close eye out and making their way to the new city before them.

* * *

Making better time than expected, the duo arrived at the edge of the city with the sun still filling the sky. They came across the entry sign at the start, spelling out the familiar words they'd been waiting so long to see. _Welcome to_ _South Wadnix,_ read a sign half covered in spray paint. The letters F-S-A all written in boxy lettering and imposed over each other, creating a shape similar to a rectangular 8 before being circled.

Janus was ecstatic. Or at least, as ecstatic as such a standoffish man could be. He smiled, at least, and that was a step-up from his typical response. Remus, on the other hand, was practically jumping with joy and insisting they hurry up already. Under normal circumstances, Janus would have easily agreed to persevere a few more hours, but it was apparent Remus was too drained. Though he insisted he could continue no problem, Janus saw through that ruse like freshly polished glass, and therefore dragged his friend to a nearby house to get some rest.

"This one looks clear," he said, peering through the windows of the home.

"Does it?" Remus asked, stepping up beside his friend and gazing inside, "Mmm, I guess so! Let's go inside. I mean, I can totally stay up, but laying down sounds just _smashing._ "

"You're exhausted, of course it does. Now, let's check the doors. There's a chance they're unlocked, and that picking them won't be necessary."

"Awe, but lock-picking is fun, Dee."

Janus shrugged and headed to the front door, testing the handle and smirking when it twisted open freely. He stepped inside with Remus, closing the door behind them and twisting the lock. He made rounds of the house the way Virgil once had, checking all of the windows and back exits to ensure they were sealed tight. Barricades didn't seem necessary for one night, especially considering this building was much sturdier than the decrepit place they'd once found themselves in. It would take a battering ram to break these doors down. There was no getting in unless the Infected suddenly learned how to pick a lock, but that was impossible-- not to mention there were hardly any around to begin with. So, with every possible entry locked, Janus led Remus upstairs into what he assumed was once the master bedroom.

It was filled with dust, little spots reflecting the light that shone through the window. There were still intricate silk curtains hanging on the sides, a beautiful rug on the carpet, and a large mattress with a cozy, matching bed set. From comforter, to high stacked pillows, it was all coordinated. 

"How bittersweet," Janus said, "Whoever lived there before the Infected took over clearly cared about their home's appearance, but at least we'll have somewhere nice to rest."

"So many fucking pillows!" Remus laughed, grabbing hold of Janus's hand and pulling him forward as he let his bag fall idly to the floor. "Come on, let's sleep."

"Reem, I'd rather-" he was pulled along despite his words, sighing in defeat and dropping his bag at the end of the bed. 

Remus tugged him forward into the snug sheets before flopping down, pulling the blankets close and curling up underneath them. He cuddled up to Janus's side before closing his eyes, allowing himself to drift off to sleep peacefully. Janus rolled his eyes-- he always assumed he would have adapted to all the physical contact by now, but it never quite seemed to happen. Though he supposed this closeness was just his friend's nature, that unhinged idea of intimacy where he barely had a sense of boundaries. Sure, he could push him away if he so chose, and Remus would simply go on his merry way, but that doesn't mean he fully grasped the concept.

Janus moved aside and tugged the blankets over himself from the other side of his bed, hugging one of the many pillows close and allowing himself to relax. They didn't have to rotate between watches anymore, at least not while they were safe inside. For the first time in some months, they were finally able to let themselves rest.

"I'm so making you get cleaned up later, you fucking stink…" grumbled Janus, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine how nice it would be to actually sleep in a bed after so long? Yeesh!


	5. Chapter 5

Virgil paced around the room, taking brisk steps and turning on his heel each time he reached the other side. The longer he spent inside, the smaller the area began to feel, as if the walls were closing in-- so slow that one would hardly notice. Like a frog dropped into a vat of water gradually being brought to a boil, cozy and oblivious until it was already burning alive.

The deranged banging and scratching on the door was yet to cease, and the nonstop havoc made it nearly impossible to sleep, let alone relax. Virgil had tried both, over and over throughout the days they'd been shut away, but failed miserably each time. He was desperate to calm down, and although he knew they wouldn't work right away, starting the new meds he'd found hadn't helped in the slightest. If anything, he now understood why they came with a black box warning, because he was beginning to consider downing enough of those stupid pills to just _shut everything up_ _for good._ God damn these side effects, he didn't need this.

The next time he reached the end of the room, he lowered himself to the ground in defeat and tugged his hoodie taut around his form. He rested his head on his knees and tried to take deep breaths, hugging himself closer, closer,  _ closer _ .

"Virgil?" Patton asked, turning away from Logan who he'd finally convinced to begin a regimen of the antibiotics they'd found. Logan had been adamant on saving them for something, quote, ' _ more important _ .' But the gashes in his legs were only growing worse through his denial-- becoming increasingly discoloured and swollen. They were infected, and that was an indisputable fact. Most likely due to the foul water left in the bottom of the vases that had caused his wounds.

Virgil looked up at his friend, shaking on the ground as the man before him stood warily. Patton stepped over and sat beside him, pulling him into a fatherly hug with one arm. "Hey, it's okay. We'll get out of here soon."

"Will we..?" he asked, "It's been days, they should have started to disband by now. But if anything, it sounds like there's more out there…"

"I'm sure you're just on edge, and it's making it sound like there's more of them than there really are. But that can happen, and you can't help it. I know you're doing your best. I also know it can be hard to talk while we're like this, but please remember that it's best to try and keep our spirits up."

"Right, sure…" Virgil returned his head to his knees, pulling at a loose string attached to his jacket. "I just hope we have enough supplies in Roman's bag."

Patton nodded, glancing over to the once full bag of emergency stock in the corner. It had served them well, providing the team with enough food and water to get through the days, but it was running dangerously low. He knew it wouldn't last them much longer, so he had to have faith that it wouldn't need to. They'd get out, and reach the safety of their home once more.

"We can't even do anything else about it," Virgil added, "That might be the worst part…. Okay, well, the zombies are definitely the worst, but our helplessness is also up there."

Patton cracked a sad smile, "I know it's hard. But we've done what we can, and that's a good thing. We have our sign just in case, so our only job now is to wait it out a little longer."

He was referring to the note they'd taped over the window. Half of it, at least, so that sunlight still had a chance to shine through the unblocked portion. There had been paper and scotch tape in one of the drawers, and a tin of pens left on the counter. Apparently everyone before them had deemed such things useless, but they'd managed to fashion a sign out of them, and hang it up where someone might just have a chance to see it.  _ HELP. LIVING TRAPPED INSIDE. _ It read, simple and straight to the point.

When they first decided to hang it up, Virgil was worried it would attract the wrong kind of company, and that the only people likely to act on the sign's plea would be those with less than noble intentions. The others tried to convince him it would be alright, and that no humans wanted to hurt them, but that did nothing to quell his anxieties. It wasn't until Logan phrased things realistically that the words made any difference.  _ "Even if someone with, let's say 'ulterior motives', arrived here… isn't it likely that the outcome would still be favourable in compassion to being devoured?"  _ he'd said curtly. And at that, Virgil was finally inclined to agree. So they all conceded to hanging the sign, and not so patiently waiting for assistance.

"So… how's Logan doing?" Virgil asked, looking up at the others in the room.

The aforementioned man was still on the couch, his legs having been cleaned and bandaged with the last of the first-aid supplies remaining in their bag. Logan was doing his best to stay comfortable, laid down across the cushions and trying to focus his mind on something other than his pain and the noise. He gripped onto a faded People's magazine that had once fallen beside the fridge, holding it close and reading the pages to the best of his ability.

"He seems to be doing okay, actually…" Patton said softly, "I like to think I've been able to keep his morale up, and I got him to start taking the medicine this morning. I just hope it's the right kind to treat his infection."

"Come on, it's  _ Penicillin _ . It's like… classic. Broad spectrum, strong, you can't get better than that."

Patton chuckled, "I'm not  _ quite _ sure if that's the case, but I'll believe it."

Virgil smirked slightly before lowering his head again, "Mm-hm… God, I have no idea how Roman's asleep right now. The guy's insane."

"Maybe just a little. But I have a feeling he'd prefer we say he's mastered the art of turning anywhere into a place to sleep, or something. That he's very gifted in the bedroom department?"

"Oh my God, Patton, no. I don't think that last one means what you think it means."

"It most certainly does not," Logan stated abruptly, his level tone making it unclear if he was amused or embarrassed.

"Were you eavesdropping??" Virgil jumped, straightening up quickly.

Logan shrugged and closed his magazine, "It's difficult not to, in such enclosed quarters. Even with the rather… unwelcome guests, making a racket at the door."

"Well,  _ that's _ putting it lightly."

"That was my intention, yes." He pushed himself into a sitting position with a wince, "Though I do appreciate your positive outlook towards my condition. It's proven that an optimistic attitude is beneficial for such matters."

"Oh, my god, you seriously were listening to everything we were saying."

"As I said, Virgil, it was unavoidable. But at least we're able to speak freely. So long as we don't raise our voices, they certainly won't be able to hear us over all the commotion they're creating. Not with them being the source, at least..." Logan reached to adjust the scarf around his neck, only to find that, much like his tie, it was no longer present. Right.

"Are you okay, Lo?" Patton asked, "It looks like something's bothering you."

"You mean… aside from the lacerations covering my lower extremities?"

"I… yep, aside from those." 

"In which case, it's just my scarf. Or lack thereof, rather. It still leaves me quite apprehensive when I don't have it on my person."

" _ This _ is you being apprehensive?" Virgil raised an eyebrow and gestured to the composed looking man in front of him. Just a moment ago Virgil was on the brink of a panic attack, and he was pacing and mumbling up a storm. He didn't understand how the other appeared so --for lack of a better word _ \-- okay _ .

Logan raised a finger pointedly, as if he were a teacher correcting his student's vocabulary. "This is me  _ feeling  _ apprehensive, I am very purposefully not acting on it. I don't feel comfortable doing such while in the presence of others."

"But don't you feel safe to be yourself around us?" Patton asked.

"To an extent," he said, backtracking when he caught a look of disappointment in his friend's eyes, "I mean, yes, usually, but it's just that I have grown highly used to masking the majority of the time, at least to some degree. As long as I am accompanied by others, it's practically instinctive… A second nature, so to speak."

"Masking..?" Patton questioned.

Logan nodded, "Precisely. I'm well aware that I'm  _ by far  _ not the best at it, with my stiff mannerisms, formal manor of speaking, and the occasional bout of overzealous frustration… but overall, when compared to the alternative, I assure you there's a difference."

"But what are you even trying to hide? You know we love you for you, even the parts you might feel the need to disguise, so to speak."

"That can't be true," Logan said calmly.

Patton gasped, "Of course it can! Why wouldn't it be?"

"You haven't witnessed it, there's no way for you to have any particular attachment to it. Especially one as strong as love."

"But it's a piece of you," Patton argued, "I don't need to have seen you act every which way, I'd always accept you."

"Well... I do appreciate that new perspective, Patton. But it only helps so much."

"New? We've always thought that."

Logan nodded, "Maybe, but I reiterate; that's rather sweet, however, you have never been the problem."

"Then who is?"

"And what's masking..?" Roman asked tiredly from the other side of the room, startling the others. "It sounds like a theater thing, but I haven't heard it, so it can't be."

"Welcome back," Virgil jeered, "I guess we're suddenly in the land of secretly listening to each other's conversations."

Roman raised an acquitting hand, "In my defense, I only heard the end of what Mr. Brainiac was saying. And-"

"And it's impossible not to overhear, yes, we covered this."

Roman shrugged and sat cross-legged, resting his head on his hands. "Fine. But it seems like you're avoiding the question."

Logan cleared his throat, "Masking, also referred to as camouflaging, is defined as ' artificially 'performing' social behavior that is deemed to be more 'neurotypical', or hiding behavior that might be viewed as socially unacceptable.' There, I am not avoiding the question."

"So, it's an ASD thing?" Patton asked, "I still don't understand why you feel the need to hide that anymore. I know you said someone else was the issue, but who was it?"

He sighed and looked down at his legs, "It's just a habit I've had since I was young. I was incessantly told about how necessary it was, and after so many years I cannot simply act as if it hasn't become ingrained into my personality."

"That's such bullshit," spat Virgil, "That they'd say that, I mean! Not the part with you being stuck in its loop, that sucks."

"Yeah, I thought you said your parents were accepting. Why would they say that to you?" Roman asked.

"Well, my mother was supportive. She was always encouraging, and I must admit that it meant a lot to me. My father, on the other hand, had a much harder time… understanding. Apparently it's especially difficult for a father to accept his child being on the spectrum, and we were too demanding by asking him to accommodate."

"How rotten," said Roman, "I don't know why he'd care so much. It's not like it would change anything."

Logan nodded, "I thought the same. But it's immutable now, and thusly I aim not to let it trouble me."

"That sounds… healthy," Virgil mumbled, and the other man shrugged.

Patton spoke next, "Well, just know that if you ever feel ready to… loosen that mask a little, none of us would mind. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, leave the acting on the stage," said Roman reassuringly.

"I second that dumb analogy," Virgil agreed.

"Thank you, everyone," said Logan, carefully settling down with his magazine again and fighting back a grimace. "I'm alright managing like this for now, but I'll… consider it. Your compassion is much obliged."

Patton grinned slightly, "You're welcome, Lo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their sign kept reminding me from those doors from The Walking Dead, even though it partially said the exact opposite thing. Oh well, but someone please help Virgil and Logan.


	6. Chapter 6

Janus awoke from a not-so-pleasant sleep to the sound of movement downstairs. His eyes shot open and darted around the room, the one with vision doing its best to catch up and adjust to the dim light around them. The sunbeams of dawn were just beginning to fill the room, enough to indicate that the next day had arrived, but not enough for Janus to see clearly. He cursed under his breath and elbowed away from the pressure against his back, finding Remus curled up to him in his sleep. Janus rolled aside and held his breath, not wanting any noise to interrupt his listening. He sat silent and attentive, waiting for the sounds that awoke him to begin again.

_ Step. Step. Step. Click. Step. Step. _

They were cautious, purposeful actions, he noted. No Infected was capable of those, meaning they had something else on their hands. Something, arguably, much more dangerous-- _and_ _apparently_ _capable of picking those_ _damned locks!_

Janus let out his breath and reached behind him without turning, grabbing hold of Remus's shoulder and shaking him awake. The man groaned, looking up at his friend in tired confusion.

"Wha..?" he mumbled groggily, sitting up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Sush, there's people downstairs. It sounds like multiple," Janus whispered sharply.

"People? Like  _ people _ , people..?" Remus asked, cocking his head to the side.

Janus nodded and slowly crept to his feet, grabbing hold of his bag and rummaging for his revolver. It ran out of bullets ages ago, but so long as the invaders weren't aware, it would still have its intimidation factor. Remus followed him out of bed and quietly planted his feet on the ground, stepping forward slowly to avoid the floor creaking underneath him. 

"They'll probably be up here soon…" Janus said, glancing back to his friend as he readied his gun.

"Do you think they're looking for us? Or just foraging?"

"I don't know, Reem." He returned his gaze to the door as footsteps grew nearer, resounding subtly against the carpeted halls. He knew they could most likely hide, at least temporarily, but it wouldn't do them much good. They'd likely be found anyway if they tried, and then they would already be cornered. Janus hated that idea.

He gripped his weapon tighter.

Janus moved closer to his friend as the steps reached the door, once more holding the air in his lungs to remain silent. His heart pounded against his ribs and he squinted to fight the darkness, the door before them finally creaking open, almost painstakingly slow.

A hand turned the knob and pushed the door open, and three figures stepped into the room. Two men and a woman, dressed in dark clothing that hid their forms and disguised their features. The strongest looking man stood in front, tall and muscular with a hostile expression rooted on his face. Their eyes locked, and Janus finally breathed.

"Get out," he ordered, aiming his revolver ahead.

Much to Janus's dismay, the strange man only snickered and drew a pistol from its holster. He spoke as if he were amused, voice firm and gruff. "Brave kid.  _ Stupid _ , but brave. Just put your weapon down so I don't have to use this."

"No, get out, all of you. I could just as easily be the one to shoot, don't test me."

_ Believe it. _

_ They  _ **_have_ ** _ to believe it. _

They didn't seem to.

"Sure you could. You could kill us all before we get to you?"

Janus looked between the three, catching the metallic glint of guns being held in all of their hands.

"What do you want from us?" Remus snapped, fists clenched at his sides.

"No more weapons. You're gonna put your hands on your head, where we can see them. I'll give you five seconds before I just take y'all out myself."

"You wouldn't fucking dare," Janus hissed, but to no avail.

"5," said the man.

"I swear to god if you-"

"4."

_ "Dee!" _ Remus whispered urgently, and Janus glanced back towards him.

"3."

He couldn't bluff his way out of this one, could he?

"2."

"Okay!" Janus placed his gun on the floor and raised his hands, placing them atop his head. "Okay, fuck."

"Kick it away," said a voice in the back, and Janus groaned before pushing the weapon towards them with his foot.

"Good, good. Was that so hard?"

Remus let out a snarl, though his hands remained up as well.

"Now, you're gonna give us your supplies. If you don't comply, we'll take them ourselves, and it won't be pretty. If you wanna make it out of this alive, listen to what we say."

"Make it out alive? How the hell do you even expect us to survive out there empty handed? You're those dirty thieves from the broadcasts, aren't you?"

"So you've heard of us," the man chuckled, "what a pleasure. But what you decide to do after this isn't my problem, consider yourself lucky I don't just speed up the process. Now hand over your supplies.  _ Slowly _ . Any quick movements and I fire."

Janus clenched his jaw before edging forward and picking up both his and Remus's bags, gripping them tight in his hands before begrudgingly placing them on the ground in a few feet in front of him.

"I did it, now  _ leave _ ."

"Wait," the man snapped, glaring hard at Janus now that he'd stepped closer into the light. "What the hell's wrong with your face? Are you infected??"

Janus scoffed, "Obviously not, but I don't know why it's any of your damn business anyway. You're just gonna leave us to die like you said, aren't you?"

"I don't know, maybe I should just kill you now, because you sure look infected to me. You better have a good reason for that, if you don't expect me to. No way I'm letting more of those monsters walk around."

His anger bubbled up further, these people were striking his last nerve. "Are you blind, or what?? This looks nothing like the infection!"

"And  _ why _ should I be inclined to believe that?"

Janus groaned. "Fuck, it's a birthmark! A port-wine stain, I was  _ born _ with it. I'm not sick."

"It's true!" said Remus, "I've known him since we were kids, he's always had it. So why waste your bullets on us? What threat do we pose to you without our weapons? Unless you think we could take all of you down with our bare hands, in which case I'm honoured."

The man scoffed, "Hell no. Whatever, I believe your birthmark excuse. But who are you to be staying here anyway? If you heard a warning, why we're you stupid enough to stay here?"

"What kind of question is that? Do you expect us to go around sharing our names and stories like some kind of AA meeting? We gave you what you wanted, just let us go!" Truthfully, -- _ ha, truthfully-- _ Janus wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling anymore. Rage? Fear? Loss? Something else entirely? He didn't know, but whatever it was hung strong in his voice, like icy hot drops of venom rolling from his split tongue.

"Oh, drop the tone already! You're still the ones being held at gunpoint," said the woman in the back, "In fact? You clearly haven't learned anything from losing your supplies. Why don't you hand over that weird cloak of yours, too. Looks warm, you won't need it where you're going."

"I don't like what you're implying. And It's a shawl, you ignorant prick."

"You heard the lady, does she look like she cares what it's called?" the man asked, gun aimed at Janus's head, "Just drop it with the rest of your things already."

Janus narrowed his eyes, practically glaring daggers at the group before him. He lowered his hands to clutch his shawl closer, gripping it tight as his eyes trailed over to Remus. There was a rare look of fear in his musty green eyes, and Janus realized he couldn't be responsible for the two of them dying here. So he ground his teeth before tugging off his shawl, tossing it on top of their bags with a shuddering breath. He felt bare without it despite the shirt underneath, and secretly wished to hide behind his arms. But he raised them instead, placing his hands once more on the back of his head. "There.  _ Happy?" _

The man stared at him, eyes trailing down to see the mark that continued down Janus's arm. He scrunched up his nose, "Jesus, that ain't right…"

A faint growl escaped Janus's throat, and he balled his hands into fists as they rest in his hair.

"Now... I'll ask you this one more time. Who are you two?"

"I'm Remus, and this is Janus," Remus noted quickly, speaking before Janus could comment again. It felt strange to say his friend's real name, but he knew how much easier it was to rip the bandage off and get the words out there, instead of continuing to argue with the man who could shoot their brains out at any second.

"You were born like  _ that _ , and your parents named you after a two faced god?" the man chuckled, "They must've hated you somethin' fierce."

"No, they loved me  _ dearly _ ," Janus quipped sarcastically, "Just let us go already _ ,  _ haven't you done enough? What more is there for you to take?"

Remus nodded, "Yeah, just let us go already! Unless you plan to make us stand here until we drop or something. But doesn't that sound _boring?_ A real waste of your time?"

The man sighed and gestured for them to move away with the gun, "Whatever, just step away from the supplies. And don't try anything. No grabbing them last second, no getting too close to us, nothing."

Remus nudged his friend forward, and the trio instructed them on where to go. Against the wall, movements slow, and hands still raised, before finally being allowed to make their way out the door. The group forcefully guided them ahead until they exited the house entirely, only allowing them to move freely once they were down the driveway and too far to cause any harm.

After that, all they could do was run.

They ran, and ran, until their legs began to feel numb-- not stopping until their paranoia finally began to fade, and they started to believe they might just be in the clear. Both men were left gasping for air while hiding behind a series of buildings, the walls of which providing a faint sense of security from the now even more dangerous world around them.

Still panting and struggling to catch his breath, Remus grabbed hold of Janus's shoulders and turned him abruptly, staring him in the eye as they stood face to face. His brows were knit tight, and his usually impish gaze was filled with burning embers, "What the  _ hell _ was that?!"

Janus stared with eyes wide, finding himself taken aback with his mind still reeling. "What- what are you talking about, Reem??"

"Don't  _ 'Reem' _ me! The way you snapped at those people? There's a time and place! You nearly got yourself killed, Janus!"

He couldn't help but freeze, left unsure of what to say. Remus may have said his name a moment ago, but that was different. Janus couldn't recall a single time in the last decade that Remus had used his real name to his face.

"They could have  _ shot  _ you! They could have shot you and you would be fucking dead! I would have had to watch you drop to the floor and bleed out all over the place! God, do you know how many times I've had to imagine that already because of my stupid fucked up brain?!" Remus pulled back and slammed his fists against his head, as if he could somehow beat the thoughts away if he hit hard enough.

"Remus, I-" Janus reached out, but Remus only stepped back.

"You what?!" he shouted, fingers beginning to grip his hair and hard tug at the locks. "Do you even care?! You'd be dead! You'd be dead, and I'd be alone, and I would have had to watch you die for real, and I couldn't  _ take that!  _ You- you-!" tears welled up in his eyes as his resolve shattered, salty drops running down his cheeks. "Fuck, Dee- you could be  _ g-gone _ …"

Janus stood with his mouth agape, heart heavy in his chest. Slowly, he extended his arms, stepping forward and wrapping them clumsily around his friend. "I'm… I'm sorry, Remus."

Remus's breathing shook, trembling as sobs wracked his body. His hands continued to pull at his hair, knuckles white and eyes squeezed shut. 

"I'm so sorry, I mean it…" he held him closer, in something finally akin to a real embrace. "I won't leave you alone, I made- I made a mistake by acting the way I did. I had no idea you were dealing with that kind of fear, I'm so sorry."

Janus spoke slowly, such sincere and honest words feeling strange leaving his lips-- almost painfully unnatural. But the discomfort was worth it when Remus lowered his arms and hugged him back tight; still shivering and weeping, but now holding onto something instead of harming himself.

"I didn't know..." he repeated again, shaking his head guiltily. It was difficult to comprehend Remus being so disturbed by his own mind, especially when he was as keen as he was on sharing his unhinged thoughts with everyone. "You could have told me, you always tell me."

Remus shook his head, gripping tight onto Janus's shirt. His lungs ached-- no, they stung, a deep and resonating pressure like all of the air was being forced out. Pins and needles seemed to stab themselves into every inch of his skin, and his mind was filled with overwhelming static. He was used to his thoughts racing, but now he wasn't sure if they were going too fast to process, or just weren't coming at all. The world itself seemed distant, and yet he could feel arms around him. His friend's words made their way to his ears, and somehow he was able to take them in. Somehow they created some semblance of order in his otherwise scattered thoughts.

"I just- I don't want… I don't want to lose you…"

"You won't lose me," he assured, "I won't let that happen."

"You- you say that now, but you're- you're supposed to take care of yourself! Back there- Why did-? I don't understand…"

"My intention wasn't to put my life in danger. I was simply… frustrated, and frantic, due to their threats. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was too caught up in defensiveness, I'm so sorry."

Remus hugged him tighter, his usual manic state overtaken by one of sorrow. It was warped and alien for both of them, foreign in a way that neither of them recognized or knew how to handle. How could they? These were the sides of themselves even they didn't want to believe existed, so sharing them with the world by choice was out of the question. It took being dragged out of them for such true colours show. They had buried emotions trapped inside, and now that they were free, they hurt in ways unimaginable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! That was... some angst, alright. I felt kind of bad after writing this one.


	7. End?

Some time had passed before the duo was able to truly compose themselves, settling down to something resembling their normal parallel-- in addition to the strained atmosphere that refused to fade, that is. Not even Remus could ignore it, try as he might to pretend the unease wasn't lingering. But he supposed that was fine, for he knew that trying to repress his concerns wouldn't get him anywhere fast. Or anywhere at all, for that matter-- easily proven by their ordeal just mere hours ago.

He could still feel the odd sensation of anxiety in his fingertips, as if someone were constantly pricking his hands with tons of not-so-safe safety pins. Or maybe it was more akin to sticking his arms into a vat of thumbtacks? Regardless of what he compared it to, it always was just as unpleasant.

Despite the discomfort, they made their way down the street, empty handed and with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Janus seemed particularly antsy, and was refusing to walk without his arms crossed, right covering the left. The man seemed tired, but pushed forward nonetheless. Remus distantly wondered when things would really be back to normal, or if they would survive this at all.*

"It's going to be more difficult to find the FSA base without our supplies and radio… but I'm sure it's still manageable," Janus said, speaking for the first time in awhile.

"We're in the right town now, aren't we?" Remus asked, "We just have to find the center, or whatever."

The other man nodded, "Exactly, it shouldn't be so hard. As long as this city doesn't happen to be huge, we could get there within a few day's time. And we'll manage  _ without  _ resorting to theatening murder, unlike the folks back there. Though that probably shouldn't be where the bar is."

"Hmm, maybe not. Since that would leave the option of  _ non _ fatal sabotage, or blackmail."

"That's not much of a moral high ground, either. But so be it, I guess."

Remus let out a slight chuckle, enjoying when others rolled with his antics. "That's the spirit. And do you know what we  _ do _ have?" 

"What's that?" Janus asked.

Remus pulled the balisong from his pocket, flicking it open with a  _ clink.  _ "This! I could put on a knife show, shank an Infected, it's multipurpose." He spun the knife around before swinging at nothing, as if to demonstrate.

Janus rolled his eyes at the action, but a smirk crossed his face nonetheless. "I see, so that's where that was. Well, at least we aren't entirely defenceless."

Remus nodded, and the pair turned down an ally-- gravel crackling under their feet as they passed what was once a store. A large brick building painted a light beige with tacky red accents, making it all too apparent that those colours had been a part of the business's theme. Remus watched his feet as they walked, only looking up as the sound of the Infected met his ears.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered, and Janus nodded.

"It's coming from inside," he said, pointing at the building beside them. "I wonder what drove them all there."

Remus looked higher, past the ivy covered walls and up to a half-covered window that was just out of reach. A sign reading ' _ HELP. LIVING TRAPPED INSIDE.'  _ was plastered over the glass, and he nudged Janus to bring it to his attention.

"Look up there," he pointed.

"Well, that answers that, I suppose."

He nodded, "What do you think the odds are that they haven't been torn to shreds yet, and that the sign is new?"

Janus paused, seeming to recall the similar question asked back in the woods, and how Remus took his overly light-hearted response. "They're not the kind of odds I'd bet on, that's for sure."

"No kidding," Remus agreed.

"But should we like… I don't know, make sure? Toss a stone at the window or something, see if anyone inside is capable of responding?"

"Wow, Dee. That's so generous!" he said, "Hmm… Let's try it!"

Janus picked up a pebble from the ground and tossed it lightly in his hand, letting it fall back into his palm each time, "And if someone is actually inside?"

"You know what? I didn't actually consider that being a possibility. I kinda just wanted to chuck a rock at the glass, y'know?"

"Let's go with yes," Janus held out the stone, "Here, take it. I don't have the best hand eye coordination to make the shot, anyway."

Remus agreed eagerly and took the rock from the other's hand, promptly hurling it at the window and sending a  _ clank!  _ through the air. "Do you think they could have heard that?" he asked, but someone new answered the question.

_ "Hello?!"  _ cried a voice from behind the brick,  _ "Is someone out there?!" _

"Holy shit, they're actually alive…" Janus mumbled.

"We are out here!" shouted Remus, similarly shocked but ready to jump into action. "You're trapped in there?!"

_ "Yes!"  _ the voice said,  _ "Help! Can you help us?!" _

Remus looked back to Janus, giving him a questioning look. They never did decide what they'd do if the people inside were alright. After all, it didn't seem possible. Remus glanced at the window, then to Janus, back to the window, and to Janus again, all with pleading eyes.

"Oh no, we're not actually considering going in there…" Janus said, "Are we?"

"We got their hopes up!" Remus argued, bouncing on his feet. "We're not  _ that  _ bad as to leave now, right?"

Janus looked up at the sign, the desperate voice calling again from inside.

_ "Hello?! Please! We've been here for days!" _

He sighed in resignation as guilt crept into his chest, "Fine, we'll do something."

"Sweet! We'll be in soon! Don't come out until we give the all clear!" Remus told the voice, and it responded with an audible gasp.

_ "Thank you! Thank you, bless you! Guys, we're gonna be okay!" _

"Let's hurry," Janus said, and began making his way towards the front of the store. Remus jogged after him, taking the lead and guiding both of them around the corners.

"We should come up with a plan, at least of some sort," the ravenet continued as they walked, "we only have your balisong, and that can only do us so much good."

"Guess we'll have to manage," Remus shrugged, rounding a series of pillars before reaching the boarded storefront.

"I wouldn't call that a plan, really. But I guess we  _ will  _ have to improvise to some degree." His eye landed upon the symbol adorning the building's wall, and he reached out to run his hand over the paint.

"This…" he began again, observing the little house and rectangle under his fingertips, "This is the symbol they spoke of on the broadcast, for danger and guarded. It's no wonder they ended up stuck inside, this place is a literal trap."

"I guess they really didn't know what they were getting themselves into," Remus agreed, tilting his head and staring ahead at the symbol. His first inclination probably shouldn't be that he could draw better than that with his hands behind his back and a pen in his mouth, and yet there he was. Then again, he knew it likely was never intended to be  _ good,  _ anyway, just to get the job done and warn people of the risks.

Clearly though, it did that poorly as well.

"Here," said Janus, as he stepped aside back to the metal fencing they'd passed a moment ago.

It was likely meant to be temporary, either that or just very cheap-- the kind made of wire garden-fence and steel rods that probably wouldn't even keep out an angry raccoon, let alone a human. That would explain why it was already half torn down, Remus though.

"An old fence?" 

"An old fence, and a new weapon," Janus clarified, gripping onto one of the posts and tearing it from the dirt. He pried the wire away from one before repeating the process and handing a now free metal rod over to Remus. "Now let's go bash in some zombie skulls, as you would so delicately put it."

The two headed back to the doors, propping them open with another --albeit much more sizable-- stone, when Janus pointed out how they'd been rigged to lock from the inside. Saying that, "Even if those people hadn't gotten themselves stuck back there, they still wouldn't have been able to get out of this place."

They crept forward through the darkness, moving quietly as Remus pointed out a sequence of trip wires lining the entrance to every other aisle. They'd be easy to miss, no question, Janus hadn't seen them himself until the other man brought them to his attention. Bypassing the traps, they followed the trail of blood beginning under a fallen shelf, eventually reaching the small hoard of Infected honed in on attempting to break through a beat up door labeled _ employees only. _

There had to be at least fifteen of them, but Remus went to town on taking them down before Janus could even utter a word on what to do next. He had the right idea in the end, they both noted, so Janus channeled whatever fight remained in his system and joined the other man in swinging at the things in front of them until they finally caved. They'd lead them away from the crowd with the false promise of a fresh, fleshy meal, before bringing down the steel rods square into their heads enough times to stop  _ anything _ from moving. Adrenaline rushed through their veins and dark blood spattered across the tile, what were once fellow humans left crashing to the floor as heaps of mindless, rabid monsters. They would strike until the things were entirely motionless, because there was no being too careful anymore. There  _ is  _ no overkill when even dying can't keep something in the ground.

Eventually, the decaying bodies littered the floor, and all of the Infected had been thoroughly eliminated. The two men outside the door stood gasping for air, Janus nearly dropping the fence post as he slumped back against the wall trying to breathe. Remus wasn't much better off, panting and having given up on standing all together, instead opting to plop down on a non blood soaked part of the tile.

"Are you-" Janus wheezed, "are you good..? No- no bites..?"

Remus nodded and held his chest, giving a thumbs up with his free hand and letting out a strained laugh. He was feeling a million things at once, like a computer with far too many tabs open all blaring different songs and leaving everything practically incomprehensible. But unlike earlier, somewhere in there was pride, success, victory--  _ they'd just done that. _ And they'd figure out who was behind that door next. He just needed to get himself calm and breathing again, first and foremost.

Janus soon stepped over and offered his hand, of which Remus had settled enough to take, and he was pulled to his feet. They waded through the rotten corpses and to the door, knocking hard and calling out.

"We're from outside, you can open up!"

There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of something heavy being pushed away came from behind the door. However, it was yet to open.

"You won't hurt us?" asked a different voice, deeper than the one that had been shouting through the window.

"Why would we go through all this trouble, put our very  _ lives _ on the line, just to hurt you?" Janus asked, leaning on his post as if it were a cane.

"...I didn't hear a no," it said.

He huffed, " _ No _ . No, we will not hurt you."

There was a much softer click as the door unlocked, slowly being pulled open to reveal those inside.

"Janus?? Remus??" Virgil gawked, wide eyed and staring at the pair in front of him, "Am I hallucinating right now?"

"Oh, my God, Virgil…" said Janus, watching in a similar state of shock.

"I never thought I'd see you guys agai-!" Virgil started, but was quickly cut off by Remus throwing his arms around both him and Janus, pulling them all into a close, firm hug.

"Oh shush up and get over here already! Our threesome is back on!" he said, squeezing them tight.

"Remus, do  _ not  _ say it like that!" Virgil spouted, but the other man just laughed.

"Rem… Remus?" asked yet another voice, this one belonging to the wavy haired brunet across the room.

Remus turned to face the strangely familiar sound, his arms slowly falling back to his side, "...Roman?"

"You're really alive…" he said, "I- I think I need to preface by saying I'm sorry and-"

"Shut up."

Roman frowned, "Oh. I-"

"Just c'mere already, bro." Remus raised his arms again, "Don't apologize, it was a different world. A lifetime ago."

His frown turned into a grin, and he walked forward in order to hug the other. Neither man could remember the last time they'd been able to appreciate each other's presence, let alone hug as like normal siblings. They didn't know if it would last, but in that moment, they had to bask in the light of their reunion.

"So these are the people you mentioned?" asked Patton, "I can't believe you guys found each other again! And they saved us!"

"I can't even fathom the odds of that…" Logan said, sitting with his bandaged legs over the side of the couch.

"Yeah, what even led you two here??" Virgil asked, turning away from the brother's little family gathering and back towards Janus.

"We were looking for the FSA. Is that why you're in South Wadnix, too?"

"Considering we've never heard of such a thing… I'd have to say no," Logan added, and Virgil nodded his head.

"Yeah, we were only in the area for a supplies hunt before we got trapped… What's the FSA?"

"The Forsaken Survivor Alliance?" Janus finally set the fence post aside, "How haven't you heard of them? They're broadcasting constantly."

"Our radio broke ages ago," Virgil explained, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Janus nodded, "That would explain it. Well, the FSA is a community in the center of this town, it apparently welcomes all survivors who are willing to work together. We've been trying to get there for months now, but we just reached South Wadnix yesterday."

Patton smiled and placed a hand on Logan's shoulder, "Do you hear that? There really is a community around here!" 

"Yes, that sounds remarkable."

"Do you think we could travel together, since you know the way? Just until we get there," Patton asked, looking at the men before him.

Janus hesitated, looking to the new group, then to Remus, before his gaze finally met Virgil's again, "...you seem to trust these people, and Remus has found his brother, so I think we could make that work. But we don't have our radio any longer, meaning the base will take longer to find."

"What happened to it? It sounds like you had it recently," said Logan.

"It's nothing, we-"

Remus interrupted, "It's fine, Dee. We should warn them about the thieves, anyway."

Virgil blinked, "Thieves?"

"Mm-hm, there's this group of crazed bandits on the loose. We ran into them this morning- well, more like they ran into us, since they broke into the house, but tomato, gun welding criminals, same diff," Remus waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, they stole our things. Our radio is gone now, but we can probably still find the place."

"Oh my! I'm so sorry to hear that happened. Neither of you were hurt, were you?" Patton asked, stepping forward as if to check for himself.

"No," Janus tensed, backing away in order to maintain the distance he'd had between the strangers. "I mean-" he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, "No, we weren't hurt. Just slightly rattled, is all."

"Easy, Pat." Virgil took Patton's shoulder and eased him back to where he'd been before, "Give the guy some space."

Patton covered his mouth, "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. Did I startle you??"

" _ Why, aren't you a peach… _ " Janus mumbled before shaking his head and speaking normally, "It's fine, don't fret."

"This is just Patton, he's like… super caring, worries about people a lot. The guy wouldn't hurt a fly, so you don't need to worry. I can promise you that much," Virgil assured, and Janus nodded slowly.

"Right. But putting that aside, the four of you want to join us at the FSA? That's sort of a big decision to make so suddenly, isn't it?"

"It would be, but it's something we've been considering for a while," said Logan, "Our home is lovely, but honestly, it was never going to provide us an indefinite shelter."

"And the garden won't last much longer with Winter approaching," added Roman, "Neither will the water systems... They're so worn, I don't think they could handle a freeze without breaking for good."

"I guess we're really considering this," Virgil took a deep breath and shook his hands after removing them from his hoodie. "We'll still need to drop by the house again, though. To take the rest of our things with us. And Logan-" he gestured to the man on the couch, "needs time to recover. I know you say this FSA place is in the center of town, but this place is  _ big _ , and we have the map to prove it. I just don't think he'd be ready for a trip to the house and back right away, he can still hardly walk."

Logan let out a sigh, "Unfortunately, I believe Virgil is correct. I apologize for being a hindrance in that sense, I have no wish to slow you down."

"Lo, no, you're not a hindrance," Patton chimed, "Come on, don't talk like that."

"Okay, how about this?" said Roman, "We all head back to our home, stay there until we've  _ all  _ regained our strength, and  _ then _ we leave for this FSA place. That way we can regroup and get to know each other."

"You're inviting us to stay with you guys?" asked Remus, "In a place with a garden and water system? That sounds so fancy!"

"Thank you. And yes, I'm sure we can all agree the idea is perfect," he continued.

"I don't know about  _ perfect _ ," Virgil quipped, "But I have to admit, it does sound like our best shot. And it's the least we could offer after you saved us just now…"

"Then I suppose that's the plan," said Logan, pushing himself to his feet and stifling a groan of pain. "And yes, thank you both, it's because of you that we're able to escape. We'll make it up to you, you have my word."

"Oh! Yeah, Logan's right, we owe you both big time," said Patton.

Janus shook his head and re-equipped his post, "Let's worry about gratitudes another time. I'd rather we get going as soon as possible."

"Speak for yourself, Dee," Remus chuckled with an impish wink,  _ "I _ could do with some praise. That was very hard work!"

"Well, we appreciate what you did very much!" said Patton, eager to please as always and thrilled to be alive.

"Now  _ that's _ what I'm talking about," Remus boasted, a smug grin on his face.

Janus raised his brows, "Of course it is, Reem. Now, I assume all of you are more than a little keen on getting out of here, so why don't we get on the road?"

"Oh god, please," Virgil agreed, and the group hurried to gather their remaining things.

Patton grabbed his and Logan's bags, putting an arm around the man's shoulders to help support him through the journey ahead. "Oh, I hope Dug is doing okay. I need to feed him when we get back! The poor thing must be famished."

Logan patted his arm reassuringly, "I'm sure he's just fine, Patton."

* * *

The newly expanded group eventually found their way to the converted home, managing a rather uneventful trek back thanks to what they now understood was an organization trapping and taking down the Infected. They barely had to handle any themselves, though after so many sleepless nights, they still found themselves utterly exhausted by the time they reached their destination. 

Patton yawned, still supporting Logan and fighting not to fall asleep right where he stood. "Roman, you got some sleep, would it be too much to ask for you to grab the food for Dug? I need to get Lo to bed, and I think I'm about to pass out myself," he said with a weak chuckle.

Roman nodded and waved them forward quickly, "No problem, padre. You two go lay down."

"Thank you," Patton breathed with palpable relief, flashing a grateful smile before making his way to one of the bedrooms with Logan, of whom was now struggling just to get down the hall.

"They look like they're about to drop," said Remus, stretching out his arms as he watched the pair depart.

"Really…" Roman sighed, "I need to feed the dog. I can show you around after, if you'd like."

"Oh _ ,  _ Dug is a  _ dog?  _ Well, that makes a lot more sense," Remus snickered, "But sure! Give me the grand tour, brother."

Not wishing to pry further on what exactly Remus believed Dug to be, Roman simply nodded and led the man away to show off the house they'd worked so hard on.

Janus remained, adjusting the fit of the jacket he'd been given when they arrived and observing the others. "What about you, Virgil? Are you going to rest? You look equally as tired as the blond one, if not more."

Virgil shrugged, pressing on the bags under his eyes as if he could rub them away. "I dunno… I mean, I'm totally spent, but there's just too much going on in my head to sleep right now. I need to take some time to  _ breathe _ first..."

Janus nodded knowingly and took a seat at one of the stools pulled up to a counter in the kitchen, patting the seat beside him for Virgil to join. He did, planting himself on the empty stool and resting against the countertop, head shielded in his folded arms.

"I'm glad to see you're alright, Virgil," said Janus, watching the tired man beside him, "I know we may not have always seen eye to eye in the past, but finding you alive is a real solace. And I can say that honesty."

Virgil turned in his arms to face his old friend, a faint smirk finding its way onto his face. "Thanks… you too, dude."

Janus nodded slowly, "It seems we've all found one another again. So with the FSA base finally within our reach, maybe we have a shot of making it through the end of the world, after all…"

Despite all of his anxieties alerting him otherwise, Virgil returned the nod in agreement. "Yeah… I like to think we'll make it as well, Janus."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our groups finally met up, and I actually finished a story! That's so exciting! I did it in just 18 days, too. Quarantine really has me bored out of my mind, apparently...
> 
> I hope nothing ever came off as offensive! I was worried about writing Remus as someone who suffered neurological damage, and Logan as Autistic. I can see how that second one may be off-putting to some fans, considering he is a fragment made to embody logical thinking (when the condition itself is very vast and complicated). But so long as it's done respectfully in a humanized version of the character, I've never had a problem with it. I felt more safe with that aspect, since I'm on the spectrum myself, but I was still quite anxious when it came to Remus's character. I hope that I had a decent portrayal! Thank you very much for reading.
> 
> I was starting to consider a sequel involving them at the FSA base, would anyone be interested?


End file.
